Jupta
by GrimMoody
Summary: After the longest time, chapter 11 is up. Kino Makoto finally shares the truth about the death of her four friends.
1. Letter to Motoki

Dear Motoki,

How are you, Motoki-san? I know we have not had contact for much time, but I do not know who else to speak to. I am surprised I remember your address. It was a long time since my parents brought me on their business trip to Okinawa, where we met. I hear you now have a job in your father's company. Congratulations.

I write to you because I have no one else, and I am afraid that this will not be a pleasant letter. You certainly saw the newspapers of my parents' crash when we returned to America. But you do not know that I was discovered to have a terminal illness when I was recovering in the hospital. It was progressed, and I had never known about it. It is tragic to realize that even despite the crash, I would have been separated from my mother and father nevertheless.

For the past five years I have lived in an orphanage for children with terminal illnesses. Oh it was terrible...not the place itself so much as knowing that the friends we made would last only a few short years, and that if we were fortunate. There I made the friends that grieve my heart now: Amy, Mia, Serenity, and Reina.

Amy was so intellegent. Out of all of them, I think I spent most of my time with her, because she wanted me to teach her to play basketball and soccer. But most of the time she read histories and science books, and would be able to tell us wonderful things about nature. Reina loved it when she spoke of birds. Unlike the rest of us, Amy was not an orphan, but her mother worked long hours at the hospital next door to us, and since this orphanage was run by the hospital, we saw much of Amy's mother when she was not seeing a patient. Amy did the best with grades, better than all of us.

I wish Mia's dream had come true. She always wanted to be a performer, whether it was in singing or acting. She knew about clothes and movie stars, and even tried to write songs during the last year. Only occasionally would she play soccer with us, but she was truly kind. She deserved her career.

Reina liked books, but not the ones Amy read. She loved religions and world myths, as well as some fantasies. She was probably the only one there who could both explain Confuscius and also tell us what a dullahan was. She also wanted to be a singer...well, perhaps not at first, but after the time she spent with Mia, she couldn't help but think it would be nice. Reina is almost as athletic as me, and she is very good at basketball.

I think if we all had told each other that Serenity was our favorite friend, then all of us would have agreed and no one would have been offended. The rest of us had our own ways and were not social, not until we met her. Without Serenity, life would have been very bleak. It was her that cheered us up and made us laugh when we had nothing to smile about. She said that she was going to be Mia's and Reina's managers, and that Amy would be the nutritionist and I would be their trainer, so that they would always be fit for the screen, and that we would live and be together always. When I first arrived at the orphanage, she immediately welcomed me and pulled me into the group when I was too terrified from my circumstances to try to make friends. I cried a lot at that time, but I cannot remember having cried without her there, telling me that things were going to be alright.

As kind as this was, I never believed her. There never was any reason to. Life was wonderful, but we all knew it was only a matter of time until our group was broken. It started with Amy, on a day when we had finally convinced Mia to play soccer with us. We thought nothing of it when Amy said that she was tired and wanted to go take a nap. But we never saw her again.

Mia was always a fragile sort of person, and it was when one of us finally died that she began to weaken. The rest of us were so frightened to see her dwindle, even to the point where she rarely got out of bed and never left her room. We visited her, and tried to keep her spirits up, but there was little we could do when her voice started to fade, and she could no longer sing, though she did start writing feverishly (she wrote a song for each of us, but she could never sing them). Because of this, it was a complete shock the day when Reina did not wake up. Mia did not last very long after that.

It was the worst when Serenity began to fade. I was able to take care of her for a time, but I began to be truly sick also at that time, and they put us in the hospital together for observation. It began to be obvious that our time would be soon. I remember, she looked at me and smiled, saying she was glad that she would not die alone, and also that we should be happy: we would be with our friends again soon. I held her hand...she lost consciousness about the day before she died, but I still held her hand, though she could not know that I was there. I was weak and felt I would faint before I could make it, but I sat on her bed with her, and I was there when it happened. The alarms went off and they took her away, but they could not revive her.

That was the worst night of sickness I have had, and I was so weak, so that I really did faint. I spent days either in a restless sleep or a groggy wakefullness, wishing that I might finally die so that it would be over. But I didn't. One day when I woke, I felt a little better. The doctors did scans, and they noticed that every sign of the disease had gone. Though I had suffered from it for years and there is no cure, I lived. But my friends were gone.

Oh, Motoki-san, it was not always terrible times, waiting for us to fade away one by one. Do you remember when I talked constantly of Sailor Moon? I brought the DVD sets with me, and all of the girls became interested in it, especially the live-action series. Amy was Mercury, Mia was Venus, Reina was Mars, and of course Serenity was the princess and I was Sailor Jupiter. I must have told you a million times that we have the same name. Though I admit I was jealous of Reina, because red is my favorite color and Jupiter does not wear it.

In America, they have this organization called Make-a-Wish, where people with terminal illnesses are allowed to travel somewhere or meet people they have always wanted to meet. We all together decided to go to Japan to meet the team that created Sailor Moon. It was wonderful even if we only were able to see the sights, buy fancy Japanese clothes, and do karaoke. But then we were all given Sailor Moon costumes from Bandai, with wigs and the watches and everything! That was when they had began a new Sailor Moon series, so we were all given a script and told to say it, once we were dressed up, and they filmed us as a commercial for the new series! It was wonderful! Oh, but I forgot. You must have seen the commercial.

The only disappointment was that I did not see you there, but I presume that you were busy with your schooling. Your father made you go to cram school so much that I barely saw you when I was there with my parents.

Bandai gave us the costumes, and also designed transformation sequences for us, and also a sequence for one of our attacks. Of course I did "supreme thunder". We had copies of them, and we could play them on the computer. And we were able to wear the costumes at halloween, and they let us go with several children in the neighborhood to get candy from the nearby neighborhoods. Though I don't think many of the children believed us when we said that we were on TV. My favorite present from Bandai was a picture of all of us in our costumes, and we each signed under where we were. We hung it in our playroom.

After everything happened, I was too sad to stay at the orphanage. I wanted to go live on my own. I told them that since I had been cooking, sewing, and cleaning for my friends for so long, that I was capable of living alone and I wanted to be emancipated. At first no one thought that a fifteen year old would be able to be by herself, but then Amy's mother talked to the people in charge. She said that it would be too awful for me to stay there when the orphanage was filled with so many memories of people I would never see again. At one point I had hoped that Amy's mother would adopt me, but she seemed to be speaking then for herself: I would only remind her of her daughter. Besides, with her job, it would be as if I were alone anyway.

The most shocking thing about it was that I was able to move out without having to get a job right away or burden the orphanage: Serenity was rich. Apparently, shortly after I had come to the orphanage, she had made a will, saying that all of her money should go to her friends. It was so tragic -- she had believed that even if she did not live, that the rest of us would. So I ended up with two hundred thousand dollars and some stocks and bonds. If I am wise, I shall be able to live off of it for a long time. I cried for more than an hour when I found out what Serenity had done. She was so good...she should have lived.

If they had lived, then they would have changed the world. Amy could be a doctor or scientist, Mia could have been a generious pop idol, and so could Reina, if she decided not to be a writer or philosopher. And Serenity...everything she held influence over would just be wonderful. It isn't fair to them, especially since I have so little ambition myself. I am too easily content, so I cannot change the world. I wish everyone could know as I what a loss it is for them to be gone...

But it is not good to think that way. I only become more angry. My friends would not wish for me to be angry. At times such as these, I am unable to believe in a God, or in heaven. But I cannot simply disbelieve. I cannot bear the thought that they are not somewhere happy, together, and safe from all the things they had to face in life. Still...it seems evil that they are gone. How can any God take four wonderful girls away when they were so young and had so much to offer?

So I wrote to you because I want to know that someone I care about is alive. I know we have not spoken in years, but please write back. I am very frightened. I do not know what to do.

Sincerely,

Makato

P.S.

I am sorry that I was so self-absorbed in this letter, but please tell me what you are doing so that I can be a better conversationalist.


	2. Empty Apartment

"Singu, singu, supa-stah..." Makoto gently sang as she arranged some pans in the bottom cabinet and revealing her extremely strong Japanese accent, the product of speaking little besides japanese for all of her earliest years. "Someone need to hear from your heart..."

It was Mia's song. She had written one for herself, only because she needed it to complete their set of five. It was Makoto's favorite, even above her own song, "Don't Give Up". Serenity's was "Dream Come True", Reina's was "What is the World?", and Amy's, the saddest, was "Where Did You Go?". It was written just after Amy died.

Makoto did like her apartment, a little. It felt a bit overwhelming to have her own place, especially when she first entered it. Everything was so bare and empty...as if the place felt every bit as lonely as she did. Each wall seemed anxious for some attention, to look welcoming. At it was almost for the apartment's sake that she decorated, as if out of sympathy.

And so she decorated it, and quite nicely at that. Makoto felt a little strange using Serenity's money, so none of it was very expensive. But that meant that everything would be handmade and unique, and she liked it better that way. It made everything more homey. She had been working on nothing but the apartment for a week, so in the end most of it was unpacked and decorated.

It was a small apartment in Southerland, California, on the third floor of the tidy complex. The orphanage directors had absolutely refused to let her rent from a cheap place, as they were afraid it wouldn't be safe. It was one of the stipulations of her being able to be emancipated. And she liked being higher up, so that she got a better view of the city. Though it had been a hassle to get everything up.

Makoto didn't own very much, though. Besides the furniture she had to get, there were also the other girls' belongings. For some reason the things didn't go to the orphanage, but were given to her, besides what Amy's mother had decided to keep as reminders (though a large number of Amy's things remained in Makoto's care). These were the things, that the girl left mostly unpacked. She did go through most of the books, particularly Amy's, because they were histories, encyclopedias, and other books that were good to have on hand. Reina's books, the romances and other fantasies, also came out of their boxes and found a home on one of the new bookshelves.

She also found Reina's comics. It was hard to look at them, because of all the memories of Reina and Serenity reading and laughing together. That box was never opened. Instead it remained with many others in the second bedroom of the apartment, which she didn't use.

The most difficult possessions she owned were two pictures: the one she mentioned in her letter of all five girls lined up in planetary order, all in their Sailor Moon uniforms (she had those too, also still packed), as well as a picture of her with her parents, when they were on one of their many trips to Japan. She didn't want to look at them. Each one was a reminder of happy times that lasted only a few short years: first, a period of stability and comfort, then a period of friendship and happy memories. But what period was this?

Eventually she decided to let both pictures hang on one of the walls in the kitchen, but to put it on the wall next to the fridge, where she wouldn't be able to see it from the living room, but it would be there to remind her that there was a time when they existed, and that at one time she was not alone. As she hung the pictures, she realized that she was essentially done. There was little to do besides a few odds and ends around the house. She had groceries. The newspaper subscription was ordered. There was nothing to do.

Makoto realized that she was going to have to get something to do. Probably a job, but she didn't need the money. Schooling would be the best idea, but she had already been to the local high school earlier, just before she left the orphanage. They were educated there, but they thought it might be best if she went to high school with other people. They made her take a placement test, and surprisingly, Makoto scored herself out of high school. She had always considered Amy the smart one, not realizing that Amy had an influence on the girls as far as study and research went. Essentially, she didn't need to go to school.

College was an option, but Makoto had no desire to go. Truthfully, she had little desire to do anything but be with her friends. As she wandered into the living room and sat on the couch, she tried to think of other things that could possibly occupy her time. Makoto had lots of experience taking care of people and a house, but she didn't feel like she was any more talents than what would go along with being a homemaker. She could knit, decorate, arrange flowers, organize drawers, clean...

She began to think of Mia's song again. She had made her own tune for it in her head, but she didn't know how to play an instrument or communicate it to others. Makoto decided to take music classes at the local community college and learn to read music. Then she would be able to write the music for it. That would be nice, and it was something to do.

Probably they weren't going to be registering for classes yet, but there would be no harm in going out to see. Besides, she could pick something up from Paris Baguette while she was out. Perhaps a cake or some crossaints. She put on her shoes.

--

She was didn't find out if she was right or not about the registering: it was past six when she arrived, so the school office was already mostly shut down, besides a few night classes. But Paris Baguette was open, so she was able to get several cream bon bons and a chocolate scone, besides a roll cake for later. Makoto decided to eat the scone once she got home, along with some tea, but save bon bons for breakfast. As she eagerly walked home, she thought she heard some scuffling and a scream in a nearby alley. Immediately dropping her bag, she ran through the alley to a street on the other side. She looked to the left, where a teenager was attempting to steal a woman's purse. As Makoto arrived, he had just managed to get the purse string out of the lady's hands.

Without even thinking, Makoto ran after the teen, and because she had the angle, she was able to knock him over quickly. But as she snatched the purse, he rolled over and she was able to look into his angry and bloodshot eyes. Frightened for just one instant, she backed away and gave him a chance to retaliate. His fist hit the side of her nose, and Makoto, shocked from the pain but still clinging to the bag, stumbled backwards. Her attacker got up quickly and swung again.

But she wasn't going to let him have another hit. Dodging quickly to the left, she ducked under to punch him in the stomach, then kicked him in the face a couple of times in case he still thought he was going to get the bag back. He obviously got her gist, but still gave her an ugly look before shuffling off. Makoto sighed with relief. She wasn't sure she could have held her own if he hadn't given up.

"Oh thank you!" the owner of the purse approached. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. Here is your purse." she handed it over. "Is my nose broken?"

"No, you're not even bleeding, thank God. But you should still put something cold on it." the lady said as she began to open her purse. "Here, let me give you a reward."

"Eh, no thank you, I don't need any money..."

"Well then let me give you something else. Here, this is my card." she handed it to Makoto. "Every girl needs to feel graceful. I think you've earned at least a year of free lessons."

Makoto looked at the card. According to it, the lady's name was Caroline Blume, and she had a dance and modeling studio that wasn't far from her apartment complex.

"Wow...thank you, Ms. Blume." Makoto wasn't sure that she was interested in dancing, but it would be rude not to accept it.

"You deserve it for getting rid of that drug-crazed wannabe convict. I can't believe he's not behind bars."

"He was on drugs?"

"Oh yes, you can tell by the look in their eyes, and they're paler too. Can't you tell?"

"No...I did not know what to look for."

"It's sweet how innocent you are. I wish every girl was. What is your name? I'll have to make sure to tell my assistant, that's Susie Barnes, to be expecting you if you come in the studio while I'm out."

"My name is Makoto Kino." she offered as the dance instructer wrote it down in an organizer. Thinking about it, she realized she wasn't interested at all in modeling. But for the sake of manners, Makoto went on to ask, "What kinds of dance do you teach?"

"Most of our students take ballet, but we also offer tap and jazz. Just come by the studio and pick out whatever you like."

As they said their goodbyes, Makoto couldn't help but feel good about herself. It was nice to be helping others again. It gave her a sense of purpose. And as she returned to the alley she came from, her mind began to wander down strange paths. It was only at the sight of her Paris Baguette bag lying in the street that she returned to reality.

It really was a mess; the scone was broken in bits and completely inedible, being scattered in the street's pebbles. While the bon bons were in their own separate bag and contained, they were all broken and the bag was half smashed, as if someone had inadvertently stepped on it. Fortunately the roll cake was mostly undamaged, thanks to the plastic case; it was only a little uglier for being thrown to the ground. Makoto mindlessly cleaned up the trash, glad that she still had something sweet to snack on at home later. She didn't need that much sugar anyway. Dumping the bag in the trash can of a nearby outdoor coffeehouse, Makoto mused over taking dancing lessons. She didn't really need them. Why would she dance? But she smiled contentedly, looking at the sky as the sun began to set. It was lovely.

Those strange thoughts returned again , and as Makoto reluctantly returned to the empty apartment, she began putting together the thoughts that would shape her fate.

--

Author's note: I don't think it's really necessary to spell out Makoto's misprununciations, so even though her english is imperfect, I'm going to write it out normally unless the plot requires otherwise. It's more important for you to know what she is saying, and you can always imagine the accent.


	3. Exposition

Makoto entered the Goodwill store, wondering if there were any more thrift shops in town, just in case she couldn't find that she was looking for. She was tempted to look at the sketch she had drawn the previous night, but she knew she couldn't risk letting it be seen in public. She didn't want them to have any idea what she was doing -- it was her special secret, and as she thought of it, it warmed her for a few moments.

But for all of that to come to fruition, she had to make sure that she found what she needed without being suspected. So she instantly headed for the long racks of assorted clothes, the jacket section in particular. Pretending to meander, she made her way over to a collection of camoflage military BDUs. Some of them were the newer kind, which she didn't like, but the older, greener version would be just perfect, she knew. She only took two of them, the larger ones, and made sure to try on a few of the winter overcoats. She took a black coat and decided to get it, even though it had nothing to do with her project. It was sure to be warm. And when she left that section, she also snagged a couple of BDU pants.

She passed by several kilts on her way out of the clothing section, and she couldn't help but look at them. She eyed a red plaid, and considered buying it; red really was her favorite color.

"Oh no, don't get that tartan!" she heard a voice exclaim behind her.

It was a tall woman, with blonde, wavy hair and an apparent interest in children's toys, from what she held in her basket. Her green eyes were open wide, seeming to imply that Makoto was making a very serious mistake in her choice of kilt. "That there is the Royal Stewart tartan. They're not a good clann. They live far too close to the English, I say! You would look good in a nice Campbell tartan, though there's no telling if they have it. Probably whoever donated those have only the unloyal Scottish clanns."

Makoto stood there dumbfounded. "Eh, what is a tartan?"

"It's the pattern of the kilt, of course. Here, this green Campbell would look very good on you."

"...I am looking for a red one."

The lady pursed her lips thoughtfully, then began to shuffle through the kilts on the rack. "Ah, what a shock! Irish tartans...I suppose they'll have to do. Here -- take this Tipperary County tartan. Red enough for you?" she joked.

"Oh yes...thank you."

"You're welcome!" the lady walked towards the register, waving as she went and smiling as if she had done a good deed.

Makoto was glad when she left, thankful that she hadn't asked anything about what she needed a kilt for. It was only because she liked plaid, but still, she knew that she shouldn't attract anyone's specific attention or give them any reason to remember her. And why was it so bad that the clann lived so close to England? Makoto wished that Amy was there to tell her about Scottish history. Certainly she would know.

Quickly Makoto forced herself not to think of it anymore. With a little stubborn vigor she hurriedly snatched the kilt the lady had suggested, as well as a blue one and another red and green one. Tartans made no difference to her, but she didn't want the lady to notice her on the street if she saw Makoto wearing Royal Stewart. Wisely the girl decided to wait in the back of the store until the strange redhead had gone.

The back of the store had the shoes in it, and immediately Makoto noticed a pair of black winter galoshes, the kind that are supposed to go on the outside of regular shoes. It amazed her that people still sold those. Since they matched her coat, she got them. Looking up, while trying to look like she wasn't trying to avoid the Scottish woman, Makoto noticed that she was still there. She was going to have to be more patient, as it had only been less than a minute since she had gone away.

Browsing through the children's section, she came across a small display of clown jewelry. Some of it looked interesting, in particular the necklaces and bracelets made with colorful stones. But one thing stood out above all the rest, in her eyes. It was a broach, and an extremely cheap one at that. But it was a large, pink, oval shaped half-stone, about an inch long, with a little faux gold twisted in intricate paterns around it. It wasn't plastic, but it definitely wasn't a valuable stone. Somehow her heart went out to it -- it reminded her of Serenity. It was bold in its stubborn pinkness...sweet, but unafraid.

And that was the problem. It was such an overt pink that it contradicted the first guideline of her project: the costume had to be dark and not stand out in any way. But she had to have it. It was a fairly unique thing, so she made sure to grab some more stunning examples of the clown jewelry to make sure the cashier wouldn't distinguish the pink rock and remember it later. Her plans depended on being someone easily forgotten when in public.

She casually headed to pay, thankful that the strange woman had finally gone.

--

After Makoto had paid, she had made her way to the fabric store to get other things on her list: soft, black fabric, wide black lace ribbon, matching half-inch black lace ribbon, elastic, lots of black and green thread, and some measuring tape. She also got other fabrics and laces to again make sure no one would pay attention to her more important items. At a Walmart she picked up black socks, men's hiking boots (the common kind, nothing interesting or distinctive), hair scrunchies, tights, and three leotards: one black, one pink, and one blue. Makoto had decided that if she was going to take the free lessons, she was most interested in ballet. And she could use it as an alibi, if necessary, because she knew that at some point one of the orphanage directors would visit to make sure she was alright.

Satisfied with her catch, she smiled as she contentedly heading home. She had taken every precaution on the way, and was very proud of herself. She had paid only with cash, dropped off her bags after every stop, and managed to stay invisible after Goodwill. And she only got things that would not reflect well in the dark, besides the broach.

Quickly she hid the her bags behind the many stacks of boxes in her unused bedroom, hoping that if anyone entered there they would not be interested enough to shuffle through the mess. Sorting through all of them, because she had bought plenty of distracting items, she hurriedly packed all of her chosen items into a large box and began to assemble the outfit she had designed earlier. Makoto pulled a picture she had drawn, with several measurements scribbled alongside it, from under one of the stacks. It was sailor fuku...sort of.

Makoto started with the boots. They were fortunately black, but she considered for the moment whether or not to make laces from the lace she had bought. She rejected the idea, as they would be too weak and probably rip.

For the legs she also had little to do. She decided to wear hose in warmer weather, and black leggings when it got cold, as it certainly would soon enough. It was California, but in the north they didn't escape the chilly season. Both the legwear and the boots returned to their box.

It was at the skirt that things got a little complicated. She could have simply gotten camouflage colored material at the fabric store, but it wouldn't have had the texture she was looking for: thus the BDUs. She would have to take them apart by the seems and take the wider material, such as at the back, to make the body of the skirt. Fortunately Goodwill had had some very large sizes, so Makoto was certain she would have just enough of the larger pieces to make the proper pleated skirt. She could even take out some of the pockets and sew them in.

For the large bow on the back (as well as the one in front), she would have to use the material from the BDU pants. Each pair would yield enough, she thought. But for the one on the back of the skirt, she didn't like how it would be on BDU fabric as well, so it wouldn't stand out very much. To compensate, she had drawn in her picture what she would do with the lace ribbons: sew two lines of the half-inch lace ribbon along the top and bottom of the material, with a strip of the wider ribbon sewn in the middle. Then she would tie the bow and sew it in place, creating a small-large-small pattern on it.

Liking this pattern a lot, she decided to sew it into the bottom of the skirt and on the collar. The front bow wouldn't need it, since she had used a black leotard. It was made of thick material, but as she handled it, Makoto knew that she would have to wear an undershirt or freeze. It had the proper short sleeves, which she much preferred to not having sleeves at all. To keep her arms from freezing, she had two black gloves that reached above her elbows, which she would sew leftover scraps of the BDU material to, with elastic to hold the gloves up. Instead of doing the small-large-small pattern, she decided to simply put some of the small ribbon lace on the edge of the BDU part for a little frill.

The mask was the hardest and most annoying part of the costume. The sailor senshi had none, so she was forced to make up her own design. In the end, Makoto's design was entirely unpleasing to her, but it had to do: a wide BDU strip that would cover her face from the middle of her forehead down a little past her nose. While she liked how well it covered, it was probably not going to look very pretty. Instead of having it tie in the back, she simply chose to sew it closed and so that she would only have to slip it over her head. The lace ribbon wouldn't have looked good on it, so instead she just would cut eye-holes and leave it at that. Maybe she would be inspired later.

Sorting out the material for each segment of the project, Makoto sighed and stretched. This was going to take a while. Good thing she didn't have to register for the music class until next week. She would need a lot of time to get it ready.

She suddenly remembered her broach. Taking it out of the bag, she observed it a moment. It definetly violated her "nothing stands out" rule. But her outfit had none of the pink Sailor Jupiter wore, and it was so very dark...perhaps one part of it could refuse to conform to camouflage.

Taking out elastic and an equal length of lace ribbon, she held them around her neck for measurement. Cutting them, she sewed them into a ring, then promptly knocked the pin off of the broach. The gold pattern intertwined around the stone's border provided a perfect means of sewing the jewel on, and she was careful to stitch it on firmly.

It was perfect. Makoto smiled gently as she fingered it. It would be her distinguishing sign.

i"Oh, silly me."/i Makoto thought cheerfully. i"I've forgotten to destroy the reciepts."/i

And so, pulling them out of the bags, the girl tore them up as she headed over to the kitchen where the trash can was, dreaming of what she would do when she finally got her costume together. Reaching for the cabinet under the sink, she pulled out the trash can before tearing the reciepts to bits.

And then she turned around. Makoto caught sight of the picture of the other girls as she was going to leave. They were all there, lined up in their Sailor Moon costumes.

This was their dream. Their dream together.

Falling to the floor, Makoto began to sob.

--

I know this hasn't been much of a chapter as far as action goes. But you know how stories are --sometimes they have more boring parts just for the sake of exposition. But before I end this chapter and get on to better things, there's just one more detail I want you to know: Makoto did go to Carolina Blume's school of dance. Not that she very much felt like it after a long cry, but she had promised herself she would be polite and look. Besides, it was a reason to get out of the house. Evenings and nights alone were the worst. Perhaps if she worked really hard in class she would be too exhausted to lie awake. She was getting tired of leaving the TV on; it always gave her headaches in the morning.

The school was near the downtown area of Southerland, in the housing areas that had existed for many years. So it shouldn't have been much of a surprise to see that the school was actually a large, two story house, probably at least half a century old. Makoto stood out in the parking lot, solemnly gathering it in -- the broken, mostly grass parking area in front (not even a lot), the ballet shoes and outfits that hung in the second-story window, and the off-white, sort of bluish paint that seemed freshly painted over an imperfect original paint job -- and coming to the conclusion that it was very cute and yet tragic, something out of an old town legend.

She went inside to see a narrow hallway, filled with all sorts of recital pictures and news articles on the cork bulletin boards. They were people of various age groups posing in bright costumes, some with tu-tus and others with patterned body suits. Apparently they taught gymnastics too. It was all very cheering, and it quieted some of Makoto's anxiety as she touched the pictures and tried to imagine what sort of lives the little girls in the pictures led.

The stairs went up immediately on the right from the door, alongside the hall, and underneath was a door (she learned later it was a tiny bathroom). Up ahead there were two doors, one to the left and one ahead. The leftwards one was a classroom, but unused at the time. Ahead, beyond a small waiting room, was the main classroom, filled with mirrors and barres, as well as various little girls all learning to do turns.

Makoto didn't go in there. There were a small group of mothers talking in the little waiting room, and she didn't want to bother them. What would she say? So she turned around and went up the stairs, passing by a poster of some famous Russian ballerinas. Makoto wondered what they called men in ballet. As she got up to the top of the stairs, she looked left and saw that what she had seen outside was a little store. Feeling a little inspired, she thought she would go up there and take a look. She may find something she could make on her own, so that she'd have an answer if someone asked what she needed her sewing supplies for.

She had been looking to the left, so at first she didn't notice what was going on in a third classroom, straight ahead. Not until several pre-teens gave a loud "hi-YAH!".

It was a karate class. Makoto wondered why Caroline hadn't mentioned that to her. At least she knew now.

"Excuse me..." Makoto asked a man nearby, who was probably waiting for the class to end so he could pick up his son. "Eh, do they have classes for older people?"

"Sure. The adult class begins right after this one, I think." the man responded, friendly-like and as conversationally inclined as a southerner. He pointed into the room. "See that kid in the yellow belt over there? That's my boy, Jarred. He's so good at it, a natural. Even about to get his next belt. That's the green, right?"

"I don't know." Makoto responded. She never had been that much interested before. But before she could get taken into a long conversation that would probably end up very awkwardly for Makoto, she excused herself. She had to go find Susie Barnes.


	4. Mission and Music

Dear Motoki,

I am sad that I have not yet recieved a response from you. But I know that it is a far way to Japan, and perhaps the letters were lost. I hope not. I do not wish to write again what I wrote in them.

Things are going well for me. I am taking two music classes, one in which I shall learn how to read music, and the other I will learn to play the guitar. The teacher says that I am very good for a beginner. Do you play an instrument? Or have you been too busy with your work?

I have finished my outfit. Though now I am a little doubtful that I have designed it correctly. Perhaps it was wrong to make it sailor fuku, and people will notice that it is like Sailor Jupiter. I should have been more more original. I meant to think of an original name also, but I did not think of one in time.

_I_ wore the costume for the first time yesterday, after school. I had just finished the mask that morning, which I though I had ruined because I cut the eye holes far too large. But you know that material that is see through when it is close? I put that in the holes to make sure I could see but they could not see my eyes.

Though crime usually does not happen randomly, and I have no way of knowing if a crime is being committed or a way to get there in time, I was able to save someone. I knew what to do. Ever since Ms. Blume told me about the drugs, I did some investigation. I heard that a drug dealer, Tom Pyrus, is in Southerland, and he works for a big-name supplier that lives in the southern part of the this state. No one knows who the supplier is, but they say that he runs the drug industry in southern California, even as far west as Nevada. There are many rumors.

But Pyrus is a small dealer. I do not believe that he has competition in Southerland, which has remained drug-free since it was formed. But if he and his lesser dealers are not stopped, then we will not see the end of drug use here.

No, I did not get him yet. I had wandered into the worst part of town, wearing my new black coat with my mask tucked under the collar. I also wore the kilt that the strange Scottish lady had recommended to hide my sailor skirt. I remember that it was County Monaghan tartan. I wanted to learn more on Scotland, but all I have for now is one of Amy's books on Robert Bruce. Anyway, those hid my costume very well, and so did my winter boots. I wish I had not kept my leggings under my skirt. It was cold, but I could not let anyone recognise anything.

So I went to the drug areas, and one of Pyrus's dealers was being yelled at in an alley. I am surprised that they were in public. But it was easier for me because not so many of the drug people were there. I do not understand how it works, but some thugs were yelling at a girl dealer, or maybe she was a runner, who was supposed to deliver drugs but never got them there. She said that they were stolen. The others were not happy with her because they said it was not the first time she did that. I do not remember the conversation, as I was quickly getting into costume, but I did hear that they were going to kill her.

Because I practiced, I was able to be ready in less than a minute. I was not able to buy knives as a weapon, so I used kitchen knives instead and covered the handles in electrical tape (it was better than being laughed at for using kitchen knives). I was not able to practice throwing the knives, but I threw one to try and get the main thug to drop his gun. It hit nothing.

The thugs immediately demanded to know who I was (Pyrus was not one of them), but I had decided not to speak, because my voice is too recognizable. When they were distracted, the girl tried to run, but two of the boys (there were five together) ran after her. It was frightening, because the one with the gun tried to shoot me, but I ran in and threw another knife. It also missed, but it was close enough so that he dropped the gun. Before he or one of his could go after it, I stabbed him, then fought off both of the other two thugs. I did not think I would be able to stop them, but even as I knocked out one, the other grabbed the gun. I am shocked at myself. Even before I knew what to do, I had suddenly stepped on the weapon and kicked him in the face. There is a certain area on the head that a person can kick, and if it is hurt badly enough the person will faint. That is what happened.

The other two came back, and I found out that one of them had a gun as well. He held it against the girl, who they captured, and demanded that I put down my knives (was holding two of them, but I had more in my outfit). I looked at the girl, and then I looked at the other two, then I made a risky assumption. I dropped the two knives. and they began to back away from me. Then, when they did not expect it, I threw a knife. It too missed (you think they might have noticed I never hit anything with them), but in that moment the thug pointed his weapon at me. Big mistake. Before he could aim at me, I had grabbed his arm and broke his nose with my other hand.

Once he was knocked out, I noticed that the last bad guy had run off. This was bad, because he could run and tell Pyrus what happened. But I did not see where he went, so I did not chase him. The girl stared at me, because there was no point in going back to Pyrus. She fearfully began to say that she would turn herself in if I would let her go. I wonder what she thought I was going to do. But I nodded.

I picked up my knives, but it was a bad that I did not remember to pick up the guns. They would have been useful later. I took her quickly away, because I did not know if more thugs were going to come, and took her by quieter streets to the police station. She said that she would just get a taxi and go, but I did not trust her. So we were near the building and as she was about to enter in (she looked like she didn't want to) she asked me who I was. This was the annoying part. Because I had not thought of a name, I told her "Jupiter", because...well, I like it, though it is not creative at all. But since my accent is so strong, she heard "Jupta". It's all over the news now. I do not know what I will do about it...though I think it is stuck now in people's minds. It is so irritating.

Oh well. From what I saw in the news this morning, the girl, who I found out was named Jez'belle Harper. I like that name. It is very fancy and I have not heard it before. I should have done a better job on my own...

And so, I am a superhero! Isn't it so exciting? I wonder what I shall do next. I must defeat Pyrus somehow. Though I will need to present evidence to the police. The chief of police was not happy today on the news. I must make sure to tell them everything so that they will understand. It would be bad if they arrested me.

I am feeling well. Karate and music lessons are a good distractions. Particularly the music. There is a girl at school who is going to start a band, and I think I shall try to join her as the guitar player. Her name is Sammi Chika, and she is Japanese also. But her family has been in America for one hundred years. She is a good singer, and advanced. She comes to the advanced class which is in the same classroom earlier in the day. Sammi set up an ad on the bulletin board for people in music class to come to her house on Saturday, and the auditions are only open to music students.

Today she saw me writing the musical notes to Mia's song, "Singu, Singu, Superstar!" and wanted to take it home so that she could learn to sing it. I think that means that I am in the band. I have an acoustic guitar, but I will get an electric one if that would sound better. Actually, I think I will go ahead and bring both on Saturday, so that she can choose which she wants. I am so excited! I have wanted for a long time to make music for Mia's songs. They are very beautifully written, and it would be wonderful if her dream of being a writer can come true, if she cannot sing them herself.

Mia wrote a lot of poetry also. I do not know. Maybe those were supposed to be songs too, but she never spoke of them. Mia was the most internal of us all, and she wrote a lot. Most of us kept diaries, though Reina was more interesting in reading than writing. Serenity wrote some, and so did Amy, but I have not read them. It does not seem right, even though diaries are meant to be read by people in the future. What other reason would they? They doubtlessly wanted something of them to last beyond themselves.

I think maybe I shall read them tonight. No, in the morning. Never at night.

Sincerely,

Makoto Kino

P.S. I hope that you get this letter. Tell me about what is going on with your European branches. I will feel better about telling you so much if you do the same.


	5. Dual Life

"My boyfriend James is already there," Sammi continued, helping Makoto get both guitars out of the trunk. She'd been talking for the whole twenty minutes Makoto had been riding in the car with her, but as they pulled into Sammi's parents' driveway, Sammi began to talk about the task at hand: their band. "And Ed is on the drums. I wanted Elsie on the trumpet, but she said she might not be able to make it -- oh wait she's here! Wonderful! Hi Elsie!"

Elsie was a Korean-American, of which there seemed to be plenty in Southerland. She was in a more advanced class than Makoto, as she was a sophmore. It was strange, in a good way, to note how many of Sammi's friends were underclassmen. She wasn't biased at all. She did have lots of senior friends, like Ed for example, but that didn't stop her from having first years over at her house. Ed was the same way. He was Costa Rican, but when he tanned the girls would swear up and down that he must be part black. Earlier in the year Makoto had seen him return from the beach, and she had to admit it looked like a possibility. But unlike Sammi, Ed's social comfortability came from sheer indifference, rather than abundant social drive, and he was fairly tight-lipped about his heritage, if only to tease Sammi and Elsie about it.

"Hey! Oh, Ed is trying to set up his drums in your garage, but there's some stuff in the way." Elsie waved at Makoto before continuing. "We need to know where we can put it all."

"Ugh...my dad said he moved them already. When James gets here, he'll help Ed move any heavy stuff. For now let's just shove enough aside to set up the drums."

Sammi already looked like a pop star, Makoto noticed. She was wearing a bright, orange dress, one that seemed a little too short in Makoto's opinion, but it wasn't anything terribly immodest. She wore with it a jean jacket, and heeled pumps. Elsie, on the other hand, wore only her regular clothes, which actually were pretty nice. Her pants were black, and she wore a nice green top. Makoto looked at her own clothes; they were simple jeans and a grey shirt that said "Tokyo" on it in pink faded letters. It was hardly a pop star's ensemble. Somehow Ed looked a million times better in his jeans and t-shirt. Then again, he was fairly buff.

But tired of judging herself, Makoto just went inside, placing the guitar case she was holding next to the one Sammi had placed on the side of the garage, then helped Ed move a desk to the side of the garage wall, near the door that must have lead into the house. The other side of the garage was completely covered in tools, and Elsie had been stacking several toolboxes on top of two workbenches, right below the hammers, saws, and various knick-knacks that hung on the wall. Makoto joined in, picked up a crate full of wood scraps, and hauled it over to shove under the benches.

"Mako, you're such a man." Sammi laughed. "I can't believe you can haul that box by yourself. I couldn't shove it with my feet earlier."

It was good to be called Mako again. She smiled in return. "No, you are just a little weak girl. You need to lift weights or chop wood or something."

James opened the door, coming out from the house. He was a frightfully pale boy, with longish brown hair, but he also had a gentle smile and was " a calm soul" as Sammi put it. He wouldn't be her boyfriend otherwise.

"Hey guys. I got everybody some Cokes from the fridge -- oh wait, Sammsi, is that cool?"

"Sure it is. My parents don't care about that. When did you get here?"

"A while ago, I just didn't take my car. It's good to walk sometimes." he handed a drink to Makoto and Elsie before noticing the guitar cases. "What do we have here?"

"Oh, yes!" Makoto immediately jumped up mid-sip and presented them to the band. "I did not know if you wanted accoustic or electric, so I bought both. Which one do you think would sound better?"

Peering at them, Ed piped up. "That one's a base."

"A what?"

"A base guitar. See, the electric one's only got five strings. A regular guitar has six."

"Oh..." Makoto blushed, hoping that they wouldn't need the electric guitar. But Sammi had a voice so attuned to pop music. Could pop be done with an acoustic?

"Hey, Mako.." James mentioned. "My base guitar was broken over the weekend. Can I borrow that one for today, well, until I get another one?"

Makoto was so relieved to see that she hadn't bought it for nothing. "You can have it. I do not need it."

Sammi gasped. "Those things are like two hundred dollars!"

The girl shrugged and smiled. "I have enough money to spend some on my friends."

"Cool, thanks." James smiled.

"Oh hey, guys, are we going out to see that movie after this?" Ed asked. "I didn't want to see it by myself."

Elsie burst out laughing. "That's because you're still in denial about liking chick flicks, and you need some chicks to bring so that you can pretend you're watching it for them."

Makoto cringed a little inwardly. Already her hero career was getting in the way of her social life, and she didn't even have much of one. "I am sorry, but I have other things to do tonight. I cannot go."

"Yeah, I'm busy too." James admitted. "I've got to meet up with some guys."

Sammi's slight expression of disappointment didn't go unnoticed. "I really wish you would come with us, Jimmy..."

"No can do, Sammsi. I got to do what I got to do." James picked up the base guitar to signify his unwillingness to argue the point. "Let's practice."

"Um, alright." Sammi cheered up a little as she pulled some papers out of her backpack. "Okay, Mako says her friend wrote this song, and Mako wrote the music for it. I really want to sing it, so I made copies for everyone."

--

Little sounds beeped out from what must have been a cell phone. "Hey, J-Wise! Yeah, it's Cory. I'll be there in a minute. Just wanted to let you know I'm on the way. Yeah. Uh-huh. Yeah. See you in a minute. Bye. Yeah, yeah, I'm on Evans Drive. Twenty minutes, yeah. Bye."

Jupta, hidden in the space behind the passenger seat of Cory's Nissan and trying not to focus on how hot she was under the blanket, got the idea that Cory wasn't really enthusiastic about what was going on, and he just wanted to get it over with. But with twenty minutes, she had to hurry up and decide what she was going to do, and also stop him before he got there. There was probably little chance Cory was going to stop before he made it there. That meant that she was going to have to do something once she got there. Silently she wished that she had chosen not to stow away in his car.

As his car eventually came to pull in somewhere, and according to the research she had done, it was a warehouse. It was a good thing she had researched, as she could see nothing from being so crammed. Her heart raced so loudly that she wasn't at all surprised to notice that Cory was opening the left rear door. Jupta would be discovered.

"Oh, I forgot. It's in the trunk."

Inwardly scolding Cory for his lack of organization, she couldn't help but be quick to forgive him. He left the door open, a convenient escape for her to get out unnoticed...if it wasn't a trap. It didn't sound like one, as Cory and his associates (one of them must have been J-Wise) simply departed, but not particularly far. Willing to take a peek from the blanket, Jupta noticed that the car was in a terrible strategic area: the middle of the open warehouse floor. It was very bright too. She would have to find a way to get out and formulate put some sort of plan into action.

It was dumb not to have a gun, and Jupta knew it. As she quickly snuck around towards the rear of the car, she spied out her situation. There were about four on J-Wise's side, including J-Wise himself. Cory made five. They were casually talking about sports, Jupta thought, though she could hear little of what was really going on. As she raced away from the others and ducked behind's someone's Volvo, the girl began to feel a little foolish. The only weapons she had were knives, and against five firearms (or however many the men had) they would be fairly useless. She was no good at throwing them, either. But she wouldn't be a hero if she couldn't improvise. Observing the characteristics of the warehouse itself, she suddenly realized that she had a good plan.

Slipping out of the warehouse quietly, she dialed numbers into Cory's cell. That boy needed to be far more careful with his possessions.

"911 emergency."

"Help, police?" Makoto said in the most white voice she could manage. "There are men with guns at the old warehouse behind the train tracks, and they look angry! I think they'll begin shooting soon!"

"Ma'am, I'm going to have to ask you to calm down. What street is that on?"

"It's just off Emerson, down the dirt road...uh...Little Burr I think..."

"What is your name?"

"...Oh no! I think they see me, please hurry!"

Jupta hung up. The police would probably not be there for another fifteen minutes, as most of the people on duty were likely to be deeper in the city, not on the fringes. That was enough time, hopefully.

She went over to the side of the building, whose dirt floor were a sure sign of hope to her. The place had once stored large farm equipment like tractors and plows, and so the farmer who had originally owned the property was never terribly worried about covering the dirt floors with any other material. It was her advantage. She hurriedly unwrapped a hose from its holder, then dug a little under the wall to make sure the hose could fit through to the inside. This part of the building was near to where the five were still together talking. Jupta made sure the water wasn't running too fast, so that they wouldn't notice it right away.

"Arright." Cory said casually. "I gotta get going but I'll see ya'll Thursday, right?"

"Don't be late, man." someone said, perhaps J-Wise himself from the tone of authority. "At six. You sure you can get Pyrus to stop holding back the good stuff?"

"Hey, me and him are tight. If I say I can do it, it's already done. I -- hey, why did one of the lights go out?"

"That's the girl!" one of the others suddenly exclaimed, pointing behind Cory. "The freaky-looking chick that was after us the other night!"

Indeed, if Jupta had been paying enough attention the first time, she would have recognized him as the one that ran away in her first encounter. But a calm Jupta paid attention to their faces this time, not taking much notice of the weapons that were instantly trained on her.

"Wow girl," said Possibly-J-Wise. "You got a lot of nerve messin' in my business like this. Just steppin' right on in like it's your own living room."

"And look at that outfit." another sneered. "How long it take you to make that, little girl? What's your powers?"

Jupta remained silent.

"Hey, I can see that knife -- why you tryin' to hide it? Won't do you no good anyway. You might as well just drop it."

As extremely tempting as it was, Jupta managed to stop herself from shouting "Supreme Thunder" as she threw not only the knife, but also the half-inch thick electrical cord that had once been used to help power the warehouse's lights. The water under their feet provided the perfect thing to create a complete circuit. In short, all five were electrocuted. Jupta left the current on for a bit before shutting off the fuse box. Once the electricity was down, Jupta sighed a little as she began to walk in the now safe water to reach their weaponry, still kicking away the cord out of paranoia. And despite that paranoia, she relaxed a little.

And a swift kick to the back of the knee brought her down. As her head slammed back against the hard ground, the nozzle of a deadly handgun was the only thing that she could focus on. Though obviously it was being held by a sixth person, someone she had overlooked. Jupta had to wonder why it took him so long to appear.

"Take off your mask!" he demanded, then suddenly seemed to change his mind. "Actually, you know what, forget it. I'll respect your privacy, just this once."

In the second he took to aim his weapon, Makoto's mind shrieked, "_He's going to shoot me in the face!_"

Suddenly a noise sounded. It was merely something metal falling, but it was enough to distract him. Jupta grabbed his weapon and threw a swinging kick. The pain caused him to let go, and Jupta shot him twice in the leg. Police alarms began to be heard, so Jupta quickly ran and grabbed as many of the weapons as she could, then bolted out of the back. Within minutes she had run into a field thick with long weeds, and was several yards away as two of the cop cars pulled out on her side of the warehouse.

Ducking down, she crept away as quickly as she could. Thankfully, the wind was blowing across the grass, and it made enough noise for her not to be apparent. Still, she knew whoever that man was would point in her direction, and the police would go looking.

It was a fairly long way back to Southerland, but Makoto was fortunately used to walking. And she was glad that she had left a change of clothes further in. It would be weird to be walking in town not only with an awkward outfit, but also with several guns (definitely against the rules of her apartment complex), and yet somehow it excited her. It was only a short damper that she would somehow have to find a way to clean her uniform at the public laundrymat without anyone taking notice.

It wasn't until she had gone a mile further and certain she had evaded capture that the full impact of what she had done began to hit. Not only had she fought several dangerous criminals, but she was now a direct target of them, or would be as soon as the news got out. And the police...Makoto had no idea how many laws she had just broken.


	6. Meeting Mr Smith

_Dear Motoki,_

_It has been a few days since the things I will speak of in this letter happened to me, but I know that I must tell you, if for nothing other than the sake of getting it out into the open. I suppose that is why Catholic confessionals are so popular. Yet I have been so very afraid to tell you what I have done, because I feel so guilty -- sort of. But let me explain._

_Saturday night I was out stopping a drug deal, and I went to far. I ended up electrocuting five people. I shot a sixth person, but that does not bother me because it was in the leg and he was fine, in fact fine enough to tell the media many horrible things about me. Again, this did not bother me so much, but I hope no one believed him. The five of them were quickly tended to because the police had come quickly to the warehouse where everything happened. I called them to make sure that no one escaped from the scene, but it is a good thing that they had the foresight to bring paramedics._

_Four of the dealers survived, but one did not. I hope it was not Cory...he did not seem to want to be a drug dealer. But then again, he claimed to have known Pyrus himself, who is the main supplier to Southerland, if you remember one of my earlier letters. Perhaps he was obligated. _

_But nonetheless, I have killed. It is an odd feeling. I do not like it. The person was bad and hurt society, so I am not so guilty...but it is not good to have killed. Perhaps I should have put more thought into my career first. I knew it had to have happened eventually. But I will avoid killing again. _

_I have been too afraid to go out these past few nights, but I know I must, because I have given the dealers and suppliers reason to be more prepared, and more dangerous. If I give up now, they will only be more violent and suspicious. What if they find a girl and think that she is me? The news has not yet said that I am Asian, even, and many of the people they caught have seen me. Then again, my mask, gloves, and leggings cover a lot of my skin, and it was dark._

_...The very thing that has stolen my too young friends has become my tool...I will try not to kill anyone anymore, Motoki-san. But if it happens again, know that it was because I had to, or that it was an accident. Though...I am confused, a little, about this...I know for certain that I do not feel very guilty. As long as Cory is fine._

_I will speak no more about that. But anyway, over these past days I have been obsessed with the legacy of my friends. They each had dreams that they wanted to accomplish, and none of them were. So I have been reading their journals and trying to discover what they wanted to do. I read Mia's, even though I know that all she wanted to be was a pop idol, and spoke of it constantly. But as I read towards the end of the journal (it was difficult for me) she wrote to God that she wanted to live, and that if she could not be a singer (her voice was mostly gone by that time) she wanted to be a famous songwriter._

_You have no idea how long it took me to write that last sentence, Motoki-san._

_So I know I will take the songs that she wrote about all of us and make sure those are sung by our band. She did other songs too, but I think she really wanted her last songs to be popular, because they were for us. I started with the song about Amy, which was "Where Did You Go?". I do not like that song, because she wrote it after Amy had died. The other songs will be easier to write, so I decided that I would get this one over with. As I tried to write music for the song, I could not stop crying long enough to sing it. But finally I finished it. I shall have to try very hard not to cry when Sammi sings it, which will be tomorrow (it is Thursday). Elsie has written songs too, so I think we will practice those as well._

_As for the band, it is going well. I ended up getting an electric guitar, and I made absolutely sure it was not a bass guitar. I think it will sound better with the band to have an electric one, even though they let me practice Saturday morning with an acoustic. Everyone decided to call the band J-Pop, even though Sammi and I are the only Japanese in it. Elsie is Korean, but she still liked the name. Ed and Jimmy did not care. Ed is so funny. He is somehow able to look like whatever color he wants to and when I saw him yesterday I could have sworn he was at least a little Japanese. I do not understand how he was able to do that, but it is very funny because he said he wanted to match us. He is so ridiculous._

_Oh and I have wonderful news about Reina. When I read her diary, she did not say very much about her own life, but she instead wrote mystery stories and wrote a little about herself from time to time. She managed to complete a trilogy about a girl named Annaleise Claire, who must solve the murder of her own parents and in the meantime discovers a secret world of mythological creatures. Some of them she makes friends with, but some are evil. I will not tell you what happens, you must simply buy the books for yourself! _

_That is right, I am going to have them published. Reina is so kind. She always wanted to pay back the charity that sent us to Japan, so she wrote in her journal one day about making some of the profits go to them, and now that I am well-off I can make sure all of the author's share goes to them. That is why I cannot send you a free copy, Motoki-san, because I want the charity to get lots of cash!_

_Now I am editing the story, but Elsie said that once I am done I can send out query letters to publishing companies. Elsie has not yet been published, but she is a writer, so she is trying to sell a story right now. She said she will help me publish it, though I did not tell her why I want to publish it. Reina did not have a title for it, but if you can think of anything, please tell me._

_Sincerely, _

_Makoto Kino_

_P.S. I hope you are not simply throwing these letters away, Motoki-san. That would not be very nice. I do hope that your schedule will be easy enough for you to respond soon._

Makoto put the letter into the envelope, promising herself to take it to the mailbox later on, as she had decided to go out for dinner at a small cafe while finishing her Music Theory homework and editing Reina's story. She looked at the clock, noting that it was only three in the afternoon. Picking up her guitar, but not plugging it in, Makoto began to play and sing.

_"It's been only a short time since I last saw your face_

_I cling to the memory for I know it is the last time_

_And it wasn't fair that you had to disappear on me_

_And now I speak to you again this one last time_

_Can you hear me?"_

Up until this point, Makoto was able to keep her composure, but as she went on, she found it harder to keep her voice from breaking.

_"We were the closest friends _

_And you were a part of us_

_Now that you're missing_

_There is no longer 'us'_

_There is a hole where you were_

_And I can't take it for much...longer..."_

Makoto gave up, deciding that there was no way she would be able to sing this song the next day. But at least thankful that it was finished, Makoto sniffed, wiping her eyes off on her sleeve. Maybe if she just showed the sheet music to Sammi, she would be able to sing or play it for herself.

She had to get out of the house. It was starting to do that thing again; the walls were drawing nearer, and the ceiling was slowly creeping down. And when things got like that, Makoto could feel her lungs begin to draw less air, and her skin crawled. She could already tell that it wasn't going to be a good night.

--

With all her writing materials gathered up into a backpack, as well as her main handgun, Makoto made her way to the local pawn shop, one that sported its own firearms section and firing range. Sweating a little as she opened the door, the girl realized that she had no legal papers if someone asked for her gun license. But it proved to be an unnecessary worry. No one asked. Having done the research, Makoto was able to buy the correct bullets for her weapon. She bought a target, rented some ear protection, and made her way into the cement, adjoining room to find a row to begin her practice.

As of yet, Makoto had never shot a bullet before. She didn't know what to expect. So as she fastened the grey, vaguely humanoid target and pressed the button to send it to the back of the shooting area, she wasn't sure exactly how to make the weapon fire. Did it have a safety? Did she have to cock it first? It was loaded from the bottom of the handle, that much she knew. So carefully inserting the bullets, she filled the cartridge and aimed.

Nothing.

A little nervous, Makoto looked over the weapon, trying to figure out what made it work. It wasn't a revolver, so it didn't have the "cowboy switch" (as Mako called it) on the back. But then she remembered to pull back on the top. She tried again.

_BLAM!_

Stunned, Makoto stumbled back a little. She didn't realize that the weapon would have such a kickback.

_"Ah,"_ she thought. _"I think that means it is 'semi-automatic', like that website said."_

Looking at the target, she couldn't see any bullet holes in the distance, but she figured the kickback had thrown her aim. But now aware of its power, Makoto tried again with five more shots. Uncertainly she pressed the button again, and the target came closer to reveal that she had been a horrible shot. The paper was hit, but only one of the shots even clipped the shoulder of the blank man.

Again she sent it back, but as she aimed again, a voice stopped her.

"Oh, that grip won't work at all."

Makoto could barely hear him through the noise cancelling headphones, but she did, and she turned around to see who was talking. Already she was being approached by a middle aged man, whom she guessed to be about forty years old, even though his hair was mostly grey. He wasn't the fittest man in Southerland, but he had the moderate bulk of someone who had obviously spent his earlier years doing things like lifting weights or doing construction work -- but those years were clearly not recent. By the looks of his tan, he was an outdoorsman. And certainly a hunter.

"Here," the man said, politely taking the weapon. "Don't feel like you have to only use one hand. Hold it like this to make sure that you keep your aim without the kickback making you lose grip. See, you try. There you go."

Trying to be proper, Makoto arranged her hands the way she thought the man had, and then aimed straight at the man. A little more confident, she pulled the trigger.

"Not bad." the man said. "You got him in neck. I'm James Smith, by the way."

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Smith. I am Makoto Kino."

Mr. Smith seemed to like that she refered to him so politely. "Well, Makoto, that's a pretty good 1911 Colt you have right there. It's a classic. Did your father buy it for you?"

"Uh, no. I got it from a boy named Cory...he didn't need it anymore."

Actually Makoto didn't remember whose gun it had been. She had probably make up a better story before another person asked. She began to think that it was a mistake bringing the gun over to a public place.

But the adult didn't question it. "That boy must have had no clue about handguns. See, that's the problem with most kids these days: they have no sense about good firearms. It's something that they should take a seriously as...as karate. But anyway, fire off a few more shots. Let's see if you can do better than I can."

And so they had a little contest. Makoto knew that there was no way she was going to beat him, and of course she didn't. But it gave her the motivation to get better, and she did improve. After a while, Mr. Smith pulled out a rifle that had been leaning against the little partition that stood between their two lanes.

"This," Mr. Smith explained. "Is a thirty-five milimeter, lever-action winchester, manufactured in 1895. Even as old as it is, it's still one of the best rifles out there."

The girl nodded, though most of the words made no impact.

"Alright, you try it. It's not automatic, so you're going to have to pump the lever every time you shoot. Now hold it against your shoulder so that you absorb the kickback and not knock yourself out. I knew a kid who did that once, and it wasn't pretty. Now go ahead."

That wasn't a very good story to tell a nervous beginner, but summoning up her willpower, Makoto took her time aiming, then rapidy fired-pumped-fired-pumped until she ran out of bullets (it wasn't long, there were only six).

Mr. Smith laughed. "There's no hurry. Just take your time in aiming...oh no, I have to leave. My daughter is probably almost done with her school project, and I have to pick her up from the library."

"Oh, then here is your gun." she handed it back.

"No, no, you keep it." the man smiled. "My wife wanted me to get rid of it anyway, because we have a ten year old, and she thinks it's dangerous to keep a rifle around with a youngster in the house."

"Why does she complain now and not when the girl was a baby?"

"Well...she just found out about it now." he said, laughing. "But you go ahead, I'm sure you'll get more use out of it than I will."

_"I certainly will, but you have no idea."_ she thought. _"But wait..."_

"Um...do we have to register it under my name?"

"No. 1895 predates the registration laws. You enjoy."

Waving to him as he left, Makoto decided to keep practicing for a while longer. Remembering where she was going on her little outing that night, she knew what she would do, and the rifle would be a wonderful help. Reloading with the extra cartridges, she again took aim, and shot.

Right through the middle.


	7. Midnight Blood

It had never failed to confuse Makoto how easily people talked about drugs at her college. She heard it was that way in high school, too, according to Ed. Usually it happened in a comfortable group of friends, one of whom would simply make an off-hand joke about weed. His friends would laugh, and they wouldn't bother to comment about the drug's dangers. It was as if they didn't care.

Makoto had heard from one of the students, a boy named Kyle, that weed wasn't as unhealthy as cigarettes. She found that hard to believe, as both seemed to involve burning particles filling the lungs, but she could admit that as much as she learned about how the drug industry worked, she knew next to nothing about the drugs themselves. She was a little nervous to find out more about the subject.

But Kyle himself had been inadvertently very helpful. Feigning interest in his argument about weed for the subject of a research paper, she had allowed him to talk about it enough until he voluntarily gave out his supplier's name, hoping to convert Makoto to his side of the matter. Perhaps he had thought that she wanted to buy some for herself. A little concerned about her reputation, Makoto decided to tell him that she would try to find the findings of a scientist on the internet.

That was how Makoto was able to find out so much about her targets in the first place. Kyle's supplier was someone named Ben Hardy, but he was a mere middle man who peddled out to his neighborhood. Being one to try the weed himself, Ben was very lack-a-daisical about his sells, and only word of mouth let potential buyers know he had any. Weed made people lazy; Makoto knew that much. After having spied on him, Makoto was fairly certain that Ben generally only sold weed to people in the local schools. His conversations with customers led her to believe that he only felt weed was safe enough for use, though hypocritically sold worse to certain people for the right price, though giving many warnings beforehand.

Spying on Ben proved to be very useful. It was here that Makoto learned really how the drug industry worked: it was shipped from wherever it was grown under the authority of a big-namer, such as Pyrus, who would then sell the drugs to be resold by others, making it much harder for police to track him down. And certainly Pyrus would never even deliver any of it himself, which was how the runners got their money. Random people, usually poorer people wanting extra money or owed money to Pyrus, would deliver the goods to whoever had wanted it. These people would sell the drugs for themselves at a higher price. There were those that tried to grow their own weed to sell, but usually when those started infringing on other sellers' territory, or if it was widespread enough to get Pyrus' attention, it would immediately be stopped. The drug industry was that strong in Southerland.

It was a very complicated and nebulous way of doing things, and Makoto wasn't sure she understood it all. But in the end, she had followed one of the runners here, to this barely half constructed future restaurant/brewery, where she was now hiding in the wooden beams along the ceiling. it would be a quick meeting that night, Jupta knew, so she had to act quickly. The runner was just giving the payment back to one of Pyrus' men (there was no way in the world it was Pyrus himself), then taking his cut and getting lost. That was how it worked with runners. Heaven help them if they made off with the money meant for Pyrus after having delivered the drugs.

Tightly holding her new Winchester, Jupta aimed and cautiously decided what to do next as the runner approached five men, two of which seemed to bear themselves with special authority. They were on the first floor of the restaurant, which Jupta could see because the second level ran along each of the walls, leaving a large empty space from which anyone above could see the floor below (it was obviously going to be a very welcoming place when it was finished being built. The three guards with the two apparent leaders looked in all directions (though not up, Jupta noticed with amusement), while another two were on the second level with rifles, each on opposite sides of the building.

Those two were going to be the biggest problem. It was possible for Jupta to get them both before one of them shot her, but in the meantime the others would hear and get away. She wasn't so sure that she could shoot first at the bottom and then get the snipers, but due to the incomplete ceiling, there were many beams and even air conditioner conduits still exposed and providing cover. They would have a time getting a good shot at her, and there were things to block bullets...if their guns weren't as strong as hers. Which was doubtful.

She peered more closely at the snipers. They were both holding fully automatic rifles of some sort, from what she could tell.

_"Crap...they will probably be able to shoot a spray of bullets. I will have to take them both out or at least get one and hide underneath the other so that he cannot get me. I do not like this."_

Left with no other option, Jupta aimed at a sniper.

_"There's no hurry. Just take your time in aiming."_

Jupta fired and pumped. A hit. Bullets began to whiz by her as she took aim again, this time at the second. But as she fired, the bullets began to make it through the air conditioner conduit where she hid. Dodging too abruptly, Jupta rolled off and fell. Her eyes widened in fear as she plummeted downwards.

Panicking, she tried to grab onto the railing as she passed it by. She still turned as she fell, and just managed to turn and face downwards, catching the rail -- with her lower rib cage. Far from out of the action, however, Jupta quickly scrambled over the rail, dodging some bullets from below. However, her last shot from the beams proved a lucky one. The second sniper was done.

Thinking only of strategy, Jupta snagged up his automatic weapon and ran towards the windows, rather than over the railing. As she suspected, the leaders were trying to get away, along with one of their guard. Firing away quickly through the window at them, Jupta forced herself to concentrate, despite the fact that she could hear the two other men coming up the stairs. Managing to get several bullets towards those outside, Jupta was quickly forced to duck down behind several tables. They were fancy and exquisite, meaning that were very thin and able to provide little cover.

The rifle she had taken was unfortunately out of bullets, and her Winchester had fallen to the first floor. Left only with handguns and knives, Jupta planned her next move.

Loud sounds shocked Jupta and forced her to roll further away from the window. It turned out that those outside weren't interested in simply leaving. From outside they had another angle into the room, and with the other two in front of her, she would have to force herself to strategize quickly. Staying on the stairs to avoid making themselves an easy target, the two men shot at Jupta. It was a huge advantage that they could just lay on the stairs and only peek over to shoot, and only table and chair legs blocked Jupta from their sights. The situation could only end one way, and everyone knew it.

The firing stopped.

"Did we get her?"

One of them peeked cautiously, then quickly ducked back down. A little more venturously, he looked again. He saw her dark ponytail lie still along the floor, and her limp hand still barely holding her handgun. Watching carefully to see if she breathed, the man approached. He kicked Jupta, but she didn't move.

The door opened below. "Hey, Tony! You alright?"

"Yeah. I got her, I think."

He reached down to turn her body and see where the bullet impact had been, which he guessed to be the girl's stomach. But he was wrong. Apparently the impact was in his own head.

His friend had already come up most of the way up the stairs, and his turn was next. Jupta heard cursings on the floor below her as the other men scrambled for a moment, then were still. They knew that if they moved from under her, she would be able to target them. But they could go carefully underneath the second story and probably avoid being easy targets, if given the time. And Jupta had no intention of allowing it.

Jupta got close to the rail, then stuck two handguns in her pockets (a la her victims), and placed a chair next to the railing, standing on it face-away from the . Taking a deep breath, she visualized her next move. It felt like something out of a movie, and she had no idea if it was even possible. But there was a decorative railing that stuck out below the second floor, and if it was strong enough to support her weight...

Giving herself no more time to second guess her decision, Jupta jumped over the railing. Hooking her legs into the railing, she pulled out her weapons. As her body automatically swung under, she fired. Both targets instantly hit the floor, though only one of them had been hit. And she also hit the floor; the under-railing really was just for decoration. Thankfully she landed on her stomach and not on anything: she was ready to shoot. Not so thankfully, she was out of bullets.

It took the remaining criminal a moment to realize that she couldn't shoot him. He started to run, and Jupta was already catching up to him. The chase continued out of the building, and Jupta got a good look at his face when he turned back for a moment. His eyes were wide, contrasting with his dark skin. Also he was bald. It was a surprise to Jupta that someone as large as him was running from a little girl. But Jupta had been practicing her karate, and she was eager to try it out on someone. She was getting bored with simply shooting people.

But before she could finish thinking these thoughts, she noticed that she was slowing down. Her adrenaline was fading, besides having put such a strain on her body with the falls. Jupta was strained, bruised, and sore; Jupta couldn't continue. All she could do was watch as the bad guy got away with a horrid scowl on her face -- wasted due to her mask.

The police would no doubt arrive soon. They had fired enough shots to alert everyone in a short radius. She quickly gathered a couple of handguns, then made sure to pick up her Winchester. There was no way she was going home without that. She found that it had hit the runner in the head. He was still alive, though unconcious.

Taking a risk, she went upstairs and got both assault rifles that the late snipers had left. She could hear sirens. Instead of going back down, Jupta opened a side window and walked to the building next door, which was fortunately separated only by a thin alley and abandoned.

--

Coming home, Makoto quickly pulled off her costume and tugged her nightgown on. Hoping to collapse from exhaustion, she dove into bed. She was so sore and in pain not only from fighting, but also from hauling those firearms. Worse of all was the pain in her heart. She was tensing. Surely the girl was far too tired to think about it tonight.

But for all her excuses, Makoto knew it was starting. It always started with Reina. She could see her friend lying pale on the bed, her eyes open as if staring at Makoto, even accusing her.

_"Mako-chan, why did you leave me? Why...? I can't breathe, Mako, I can't breathe..."_

Mia was trying to sing again, but she couldn't. She knew that she couldn't. Makoto tried to hold back her tears. Mia hadn't been able to sing for months. How long would she try this night? But it was worse when she gave up. Her weeping filled the whole apartment.

And Amy, poor Amy. She was bleeding again, bleeding in the bathroom. It was the razors again. Where did she keep finding them? Makoto had taken them away many times. It was torture.

"Mako-chan."

It was the worst part. The girl cringed.

"Mako-chan, I am here."

That voice belonged to Serenity. Makoto had learned long ago not to listen to that voice, and she shuddered as she heard it. Serenity had been the best of friends in life, and now she was the worst haunt. Plugging her ears (though it did no good), a pale, sick Makoto got out of bed and went over to her computer.

She had to type out a letter to Motoki. Besides it being a distraction, Makoto knew she had done wrong in her work that night. She had made a promise, and not kept it. Shivering, Makoto thought of putting some water on for tea, or making coffee. Anything warm to drink. But to go to the kitchen meant she would possibly see the picture of the five of them, and even worse, it would see her, and those five relentless gazes would stare at her for as long as she lingered.

Makoto shuddered and grabbed the afgan from the couch. Since she wouldn't be going on patrol the next night, she decided to go to bed before it got dark. Maybe she would just sleep all day. She had music theory in the morning but she knew she would never make it. Perhaps she would feel better enough to go to karate in the afternoon. The class would hurt her strained muscles, but she knew that she would have to fight while in pain in her chosen career, so it was good practice.

But for now, the letter. She had to confess.

_"Dear Motoki,_

_I am not very good at keeping promises. I killed four people tonight. I think the runner and the last person I shot lived, but I have killed. One for each of my friends..."_

Makoto immediately backspaced over the last sentence. She couldn't speak of that to Motoki. Mentioning even one of them now would only bring them more close to her thoughts.

--

The next afternoon, Mr. James Smith arrived home from work to find a strange car in his driveway. His first reaction was to worry about his wife, Jaimie. The second was to inwardly complain that they had taken his spot under the carport. Upon entering, he saw Jaimie seated on the loveseat in the living room, while two very official looking men sat across from her on the couch.

"Honey, what's going on? And where's Jewel?" his eyes suddenly widened as he realized she might be in danger.

If something had happened to his daughter, there would be hell to pay.

"She's at the neighbors'." Jaimie said flatly. "These are Lieutenants Clinton and Yates, and if you had really gotten rid of that rifle ten years ago we wouldn't be in this mess."

"What mess is that?" James responded, both relieved and exasperated. He sat next to his wife, who was shaking slightly. James tried to hold her hand, but the upset woman just blew him off.

Officer Clinton answered the question. "Last night at the construction site of a restaurant downtown, there was a drug-related shootout. Some of the bullets found at the scene were traced to a 1895 Winchester, which we believe was yours."

"What...how is that even possible? It wasn't registered."

"It didn't need to be. The scene was being investigated downtown, and the vigilante Jupta, which I am certain you've heard about on the news, had been a part of the fight. The investigators thought that she would have to find a place to practice her aim, and ended up at your local pawn shop. The owner remembered you talking about getting rid of your Winchester, and that you had brought it there only three days ago." Here the policeman leaned forward with emphasis. "Now, Mr. Smith, what did you do with that rifle?"

James' eyes widened with astonishment and a strange sense of awe. "I gave it away the last time I was at the shop. To a...a girl...oh no...I didn't think...I didn't realize it could have been her."

It's important to note that James Smith was indeed a misplaced and half-civilized redneck, of which were a surprising number in Southerland. It was to him a compliment that his own weapon was now being used to fight crime. And as renegade as Jupta was, it would scarcely occur to a redneck that it might be wrong to take justice into one's own hands. Though this thought did cross his mind, he couldn't help being proud of the girl.

The policemen nodded at each other. Yates got out his notebook. "I need you to describe her as best as you can, Mr. Smith."

"Right...well she was about six inches shorter than me, I think maybe around eighteen or nineteen years old. I think she was Hawaiian. She had sort of a Hawaiian name and complexion. You know, dark haired, darkish skin. Maybe Asian...but she really looked Hawaiian to me."

James was far from the best at determining ethnicity. But in his defense, Makoto did look old enough to be eighteen.

"Did she tell you her name?"

"Yeah she did, but for the life of me I can't remember it."


	8. Two Dozen

Makoto was still upset about the night before. Musing over the work of two nights ago as she walked along the street, she couldn't decide if she was more upset that four people had died, or that one had gotten away with the money. It was easy to forget her nightmares in the light of day, but her "career problems" weren't evadible. As she started walking towards the local pastry shop, she decided that it was worse that one had gotten away, barely. Though the news had another perspective, of couse.

Makoto remembered the news. "Dark vigilante Jupta, the feigned superhero, struck again two nights ago at 12:13 at the currently in-construction Monaghan's Restaurant/Brewery. It appeared that she was trying to stop a drug run, and in the process four out of seven of those involved were killed. The two survivors are both at Divine Hope Hospital, and in stable condition. While some say that Jupta is providing a service to Southerland, most people disagree."

The news had cut to an interview with the mother of one of the dead. Makoto remembered it well as she saw it in her mind's eye.

"They weren't perfect, ain't nobody perfect," the weeping woman said. "But those boys...I knew them since they was little. Don't nobody deserve to be cut down like that. She's a murderer, and she should be caught and put in jail!"

The girl was still incredulous at the reaction, despite the fact that she still felt guilty about it. Though it was hard to sympathize with someone who had raised her son yet let him end up being a drug lord...or maybe he was one of the lessers. Makoto didn't keep up with everyone's names. Maybe the boy had just fallen in with the wrong crowd.

Makoto was uncertain about what to do next. She had to come up with some sort of plan of how to catch Pyrus without looking so evil. Sighing, she realized that she didn't care very much about her reputation. But still, she wanted at least a little dignity. One thing she knew for certain was that if any of the drug lords ever saw Jupta, they would shoot without hesitation. She was the most hated person in Southerland. Possibly all of California, she surmised.

She kept walking, breathing in the cool outside air. It was too nice of a day to worry about such things. Instead her thoughts turned to Sammi and their band. Elsie had written three songs already, and when added to the five that Mia had written for her friends, that almost made up a whole cd. Sammi said she had been inspired, so she was working on something. Ed had improvised two songs, and everyone was jealous of his creative prowress. That left only Jimmy without a song to his name.

Serenity's song finally had a melody. Makoto came up with it one day, and was pleased with it. She hummed to herself as she remembered the words.

_"Those years ago when you were just a little girl_

_You didn't know the truth, didn't know the world_

_But your heart could tell you all the things amiss_

_As you lived your life of sweet sweet bliss_

_And at the end I can truly say_

_These dark times didn't make you sway_

_Yeah you kept on straight and made sense of all of this_

_"And all your dreams came true_

_They were so fresh and new_

_Guided by the song in your heart_

_Your love kept the world from falling apart_

_"And I can hear you saying,_

_'Remember that everybody's got feelings just like you' -"_

Makoto's thoughts were cut off by a voice she was surprised she recognised.

"Ain't nothin' in this life free." a man a few feet behind her muttered, as if he were deep in thought.

It was the escapee from the previous night. Makoto felt herself tense. In the attempt to look at his face without staring at him, Makoto steadily went to the crossroads up ahead, then turned right to cross the street. Acting as if she were looking down the road to see if traffic was coming, she looked from where she had come and got a quick look at him. It was definitely the same bald head and large eyes. The very man that had run for his life two nights before was hanging up his cell phone and morosely walking down the sidewalk.

Going ahead and crossing the road, Makoto tried to think of a plan. All she could think to do was quickly and as casually as possible get into the nearby donut shop. Looking through the store's large windows, she almost let loose a scream when she noticed that he too had crossed the street and was heading her way. Absentmindedly he put his hand on the door of the donut shop. As he did, the sudden sound of a popular soul song came from his pocket.

"Hello? Oh, hey Rems. Nah, I'm holdin' up, it's cool. I don't want to talk about it on the phone, but --"

Wasting no more time to listen, Makoto dove behind the counter. As she did, she wondered where the workers were. She had been to this shop before, and knew that it closed soon, so she guessed that they were doing some sort of cleaning in the back. She hoped none of them came out soon. Donning an apron and thankful that she was wearing a plain white blouse, she heard the door open.

"Good afternoon!" Makoto cheerfully exclaimed. "Just let me wash my hands, and I will be right there."

The man just nodded. In a moment, Makoto was back from the sink, and an employee of Dippin' Dough Incorporated.

"Good afternoon. What can I get you?" Makoto couldn't remember being so chipper.

"Two dozen. Half a dozen glazed, then three sprinkles and three custard..."

"I am sorry, we have sold out of the custard."

"That's okay. You still got the lemon jelly?"

As he picked out the rest of his donuts, Makoto couldn't help but notice how absolutely tired, even depressed, he looked. A little nervous, even, but mostly just tired and worried. He was constantly rubbing his eyes and even sighed a little. She guessed that he had been very busy last night and was ready to sleep, and doubtlessly worried about everything that had gone wrong for him concerning the drugs.

As Makoto finished putting the donuts into the boxes, she went over to the register. It was then that she realized that she had no idea how to enter in the order into the register. If it were just a simple register where one entered numbers, she could figure it out. But this was one of the registers where everything was labelled, so that whoever stocked up would know exactly which and how many of each kind of donut were sold.

A little impatient to get out of the awkward situation, she just smiled and looked up. "You know what? We are about to close and those donuts are just leftovers. You may have them, on the house."

That drew a reaction that Makoto didn't expect. The man's eyes widened as if he were shocked. "What, really?"

"Oh, sure. Enjoy them, sir."

Amazed, the man managed to stammer, "Wow...thanks."

As he left, Makoto tried to look busy by pulling out some sanitizer and wiping the counters. Once she heard the door shut, she pulled out some money and left it by the register. She looked up to see if he was gone. He wasn't. The man was still standing out there, obviously deep in thought. He looked up at her. She gave what she thought was her most pleasant smile. He waved, a little awkwardly, then left.

The very moment he had gone from sight Makoto threw off the apron and practically dove into the bathroom. Quickly she donned her uniform but left the mask around her neck, then covered it all with her large black jacket, just as she usually did before going out on patrol. Not hesitating in the slightest, Makoto quickly opened a small, frosted window (it was near the ceiling, so she had to move the tall trash can over to reach it) and climbed out. Fortunately there was a closed dumpster on the other side, so that she could close the window as best she could from the outside.

Jumping off of the dumpster and walking briskly into the semi-busy street, Makoto casually looked around. On foot, the strange man couldn't have gotten very far. But as she looked back and forth, trying to look as normal as possible, Makoto realized that he had gotten away. Again. Probably he had been able to reach his car, or maybe he called a taxi. Annoyed, Makoto kicked at someone's littered coffee cup and headed for home -- then promptly turned around and made sure that cup made it into the trash. Sighing, the girl decided that she really didn't need to buy anything. Perhaps if she read a long book, she would fall asleep before being able to hear the voices again. And if it were a good book, she might not have the nightmares.

Being absorbed in her thoughts and now turned away from Dippin' Dough, Makoto didn't notice when the same man reemerged from the donut shop. The man, Jamal Magwe, had an absolutely stunned, and yet almost happy, look on his face, one was about the opposite of the look he'd had when he first arrived at Dippin' Dough.

All he had wanted that afternoon was to buy some donuts before heading off to finish some paperwork at his job, his legit office one that he often used as a cover for his illegal work. His mother called, and they had the same argument they always did: he should get out of the drug business. But as he had told her moments before he entered Dippin' Dough that nothing in life ever came for free.

Until he went into the shop and met a sweet Asian girl who was generous and seemingly full of smiles.

It was a silly thing, Jamal thought. It was just irony, circumstance. Or so he thought before he once again entered the donut shop. Two workers were there, both of them white. When he asked them if any Asian girls worked there, they said no, only an older Asian lady that had been off that day.

Jamal didn't mention anything to the two confused workers. They wouldn't have been able to answer his questions anyway, probably. Who was that girl? Was she even real? Jamal looked down at the two boxes of donuts under his arms. He smiled a little. Whoever she was, he knew that there was something he had to do.

And finally Jamal knew that it could be done.


	9. On the Horizon

_Dear Motoki,_

_When the leaves have become brown and orange, and the air starts to get cold, I find myself very inwardly joyful. It is so nice to walk when it is this time of year. And it also helps that I am at a good time for all the areas of my life. It is only early November, but it feels like a very long time ago when I came here, and that was only the end of July. I have been fighting so many nights that it feels like I have been living two days for every one. _

_But it has all been worth it. I have wrote to you many times in the past few letters that I am now working harder not just to stop drugs, but to save lives. This past week has been a good one, and I have saved many people. Yesterday I saved a girl from getting hit by a bus. She was just not paying attention, and the bus driver was tired. That is bad, he should drink coffee before going into work. _

_It was fortunate that I was in the area, because I was about to leave. My mission for yesterday was at the pier, because it will be easier on me later if I simply stop them from shipping the drugs into America. Mostly the Coast Guard deals with that, but somehow a few make it by shipping something like wheat along with the drugs. _

_There is no room in Southerland for people to grow drugs without getting caught. I think that is true of a lot of America. I learned by books that a lot of drugs are grown in oppressed and poor countries where there is a lot of crime. That is sad. People who buy drugs are many times allowing people to buy guns to oppress people and make them grow things like opium. I wonder how much money those farmers get from growing it._

_Usually I just steal the drugs and get rid of them, but this time I had to fight two guards, and the others began to signal that I was there. But I was very quick and I snuck onto the boat and set it on fire. It was on the front page of the newspaper this morning!_

_In fact I am very successful, and they even said on the news that the mayor ordered everyone not to dress as me for Halloween, because the bad guys might think that they are the real Jupta! But they were not going to find me on Halloween, because I was a fairy. I got a dress and wings, and Elsie and Sammi did my makeup. I looked so different than usual, because I don't wear fancy things to school. I put a picture of us in the envelope so that you can see._

_Elsie is a big fan of Jupta (how I wish I could tell her!), but in the end she decided not to dress as me. That is good. Instead she went as a hippie. Sammi was a princess, Jimmy was a werewolf, and Ed was Elvis, and he sang lots of Elvis songs when we went to the Karaoke party after a little trick-or-treating. We were so silly that night. Oh, and before I forget, there was a cute little girl dressed up as Sailor Moon. It was a little strange because she had red, curly hair, but she was still very cute._

_We have so many songs in our band! I know I wrote to you when we finally had made music for all of the songs Mia wrote, but now we have many more songs of our own, and we have a gig next Saturday! I will have to take a break from my night work then, but that will be okay. We will definitely be a successful band! Though it was a little scary two weeks ago when Sammi and Jimmy were fighting. But they have made up, and our band will now all perform together at a concert at our local coffee house._

_Do you remember when I told you what happened at the Monaghan's Restaurant and Brewery? And do you remember when I wrote to you when I finally saw the one who got away? I found out what happened to him. For a while I didn't know and had no way to find out how he got away from me, but then his story came on the news and I knew it had to be him. He turned himself in._

_Apparently he had gone back into the shop to find out who I was, and he learned that no Asian girls worked there. So he thought I was an angel, all because of some stupid donuts. If he knew who I really was he would hate me for what I have done. The news didn't say what happened to him, but I think he is not in Southerland anymore. He must have given the police the names of his accomplices, so he will not stay here. It is not safe._

_Oh yes, I saw...that man again. You know, the one I met in the pawn shop. And just like when I wrote to you last time, I cannot remember his name, not for my life. I wish I could remember, because he was a very kind man. But anyway, he was at the dance studio where I learn karate. He has a daughter, but I did not see her. He was talking to one of his friends, someone I have not seen before. _

_"It's just as well that I got rid of the Winchester." he said. "They don't carry the ammo at Jim's anymore."_

_"You could just go to um, what's the place...." his friend suggested._

_"There's a store over at the edge of town. Over by the old mall. Is that the one you're thinking about?"_

_I recognized the old mall he spoke about. I fought near there once. It is good to know that there is a place I can get the proper ammo at. I did not mean to listen to his conversation, but he was nearby. I should have said hello, but I was on my way to an extra band practice at the time. I do not believe he even saw me. I should talk to him if I see him there again. I wonder which one of the girls there is his daughter._

_My dreams have been getting better. It is nice to remember them. Yet to have them so close for five years, and now never see them again...especially since my parents are gone. I feel that they were my family, the sisters I never had. You knew my parents, and I do not remember for myself. Why did my parents not have any more children?_

_I am tired of moping! Often enough I write to you about these things. I am sorry, I will stop writing now._

_Sincerely,_

_Makoto Kino_

_P.S. I am so crazy! I forgot to write to you about the best part! The President is coming to Southerland! He is from a nearby town that is very small, and it is in fact so small that he wanted to do his speech in a place where a lot of people could gather. I am so excited to see him. I will have to make sure that he is extra safe -- and then disappear for a while. I do not want to attract too much attention to myself._


	10. Everyone Else

Makoto hadn't planned on going as Jupta that day. In fact, she had planned on not going out all week. There was no point in going out. All of the secret servicemen would keep Southerland safe, for the time being, and Makoto couldn't have gone out on the job without getting herself caught. She figured that the drug lords would have to do the same. Pyrus hadn't stayed in business for as long as he had by acting stupid.

But for some reason Makoto found herself in an office building, on the one side where no one was gathered. Everyone who usually worked at that building, but weren't down on the street, were all looking out of their eastward windows towards the platform where President Leonard G. Taylor would soon be speaking. Makoto wanted to hear him herself, but she knew that he was going to be starting in a moment, and she probably would not be done in time to hear at least the beginning.

Several days ago, Makoto had heard of an effort to assassinate the President. It was from a couple of people in her college, huge idiots, in her opinion, because they were talking about it near other people. It was probably just a stupid joke, but to be safe she had told the police. They didn't think much of it, and the presidential visit went on as it was planned.

But it was only later that she learned of another plot, this one obviously better planned out. Though it was still a shock to her that the criminals were fairly careless. Makoto had only gone to a local Japanese restaurant because her favorite Korean restaurant, Hyuckjin's, was closed temporarily. She was supposed to meet Elsie and Sammi there. She was early enough to go over and see if Okinawa Delight was still open.

Practicing her Japanese as she went in and ordered for the other girls (they went in there often enough for her to know what they like), Makoto was glad that she remembered the Japanese well enough to speak so fluently. It was a big help to the owners of Okinawa Delight, as they weren't very good english speakers yet.

As she sat down, she noticed two men sitting in the otherwise empty dining area. She didn't pay that much mind, and just sat down as she waited for the order to be completed. She was fortunately reading some Japanese manga, part of Reina's collection, so to the men it appeared that she had about as much capacity for english as the owner.

But of course they were cautious. Makoto could see from her periferal vision that they were acting strange about her. So she casually pulled out her cell phone and pretended to dial. As she pretended that someone was answering, she began to speak japanese, loudly and laughing.

This seemed to relax the men, and they started talking in low voices. It was too much of a distraction for Makoto to invent a conversation, so to keep up with what she heard, she began to repeat what the men said, only in Japanese. It turned out that they were planning to shoot the President. They had everything figured out, even an escape route for the shooter to hide in when the police arrived in the building, which they were sure to do. It was almost a pity that they were so careless as to blurt out their plans in public.

But Makoto had been unable to stop them then. They left after only a few minutes, and Sammi and Elsie had actually passed them by to enter in. Makoto quickly ducked to make sure they wouldn't see her right away and greet her in english.

One would think that between that time and this that Makoto would have told the police again. She did. They didn't believe her. It turned out that since there had been no evidence to prove that her college classmates were planning an assassination, that they didn't believe her. They told her to stop hearing things.

So Jupta now knew everything, but was alone. Just like always. As she now wandered throughout the building in her costume, feeling a little ridiculous wearing it in the daytime. She nervously rubbed her arm as she looked for the right room number. It didn't take her long.

She tried the knob. Locked. Thinking quickly, she kicked down the door, revealing several bewildered office employees, the staff of the computer company that operated on this floor. Once engrossed in the President's speech, they now had their eyes fixed on Jupta, who was standing in the doorway, no less bewildered herself.

_"What went wrong?"_ Jupta asked herself frantically as the people started asking her questions, and wondering amongst themselves what they should do. _"He said the fourth floor, room 436....or was it the fifth floor...?"_

She didn't remember. Pounding on the wall in anger, she tried hard to remember what floor it was. In her frustration, all thoughts of the events at Okinawa Delight went out of her head...except that one of the men had mentioned the crawlspace on the eastern wall. The shooter was going to hide in it for a short time to prevent immediate discovery. They had mentioned that there was only enough room to do that near the corners of the building, and that they could get a better aim from the right side of the eastern wall....

It meant that while Jupta was on the wrong floor, she had the right room. Whatever room the shooter was in, it was in perfect lineup with the room she was currently in.

There were fifteen floors on this downtown building, and at least twenty curious coworkers still staring at her. One of them was starting to dial on his cell phone.

Jupta quickly shut the door behind her and snapped the phone out of his hand. Instead of speaking, she pulled a black marker and paper off of a nearby desk and wrote in large letters: "There is a shooter". Not waiting to see the looks of shock on everyone's faces, she took the hand of the man who had tried to report her and wrote "check 136" on it, then jerked her thumb towards the door. It was dangerous to send ordinary people to look, but it was the only way to have it done in time.

He immediately understood what to do. So did the other people she sent. One woman started to cry, so Jupta definitely didn't send her out. Though she always tried to be understanding of people, she never understood how someone could simply cry when there was danger afoot.

As Jupta wrote numbers on peoples' hands and sent them out, she realized that she should have given herself the first floor, and let all the rest get the higher floors, if she wanted to get out when this situation ended. But it couldn't be helped now. Besides, it was bad enough she was using them anyway. She didn't need to send them to the higher floors, where the shooter was more likely to be, while she herself snuck out.

So taking the fifteenth floor to search for herself, Jupta went with the last few people to go to the higher floors. Then it hit her: the shop on the fifteen floor was closed for renovation. Of course the shooter would be there, because it would be the only floor where nobody was trying to get a good look at President Taylor. Feeling very stupid, she ran up the stairs with the others. She decided that it would probably be best if she went with the innocent person to check the fourteenth floor.

But as they made it to the fourteenth floor, where there were a decent number of people, Jupta suddenly saw one of the men from Okinawa Delight. He was a security guard, Jupta bitterly noted as she saw the familiar uniform. But as Jupta herself was a very obvious sight, he immediately pulled out his gun. Before the man with her could assure the false guard of her good intent, Jupta had already shot him in the shoulder. She snatched up his weapon and cuffed him with his own handcuffs before checking the room on the fourteenth floor. No one there, besides shocked people.

She wasn't worried. Leaving the questionable situation in the hands of the office employees, she shot up to the fifteenth floor, only to find that there was no one in that room either.

_"What does this mean?"_ Jupta asked herself, gritting her teeth. _"Where is the other man? .....The roof!"_

Not wasting another moment, she headed to the top of the building. Sure enough, there was the evasive shooter, just mounting the scope on his rifle, not yet near the side of the building that would become his hiding spot You could even see the ceiling tiles he had removed for his evasion. Before moving in, Jupta got a good look at him. He had steely, blue eyes, ones that were entirely focused on his task. His brown, spiked hair was well out of his face, and she was a little suprised that he didn't wear a mask or something to cover up. As she watched, he suddenly tensed and turned to the door, where she was still standing.

She knew he couldn't shoot her. The bullet would alarm everyone, and then his plans would come to nothing. So he waited.

Jupta moved first. She kicked the gun away, then led with two punches to the stomach.

Neither of them hit. Whoever this guy was, he was a professional. After blocking her attempts, he punched her, going for the face. She dodged in time, but he still managed to hit her shoulder before she could get out of his reach. Strangely enough, Jupta's first thought was to think how much of a relief it was to fight a more professional martial artist for once, rather than some untrained kid with a gun. Admonishing herself for the ridiculous thought and trying again, Jupta was able to hit him twice in the stomach and chest before he kicked her, and it nearly knocked her over.

There was no way she was going to let herself fail. Not with what was at stake.

Suddenly she felt a wave of adrenaline (or maybe rage) and managed to start gaining some headway in the fight. It wasn't long when the would-be shooter left himself open. It was only for a moment, but it was long enough for Jupta to get a punch to the face, which enabled her to knock him out with a swift kick to the face.

Something fell to the ground with a clatter as the criminal mastermind himself fell. It was a small handgun. That was what he had left himself open to try and reach for. Jupta shuddered, thinking about how it would have felt if he had been able to pull it out in time.

Jupta had her own cuffs, so just for the comfort of her mind, she cuffed him. But as her heartbeat slowed to normal, she began to hear words that had been going on for several minutes now from the square below her. She wandered over to the edge of the roof.

And there he was. President Leonard Taylor, former governor of Washington state. He'd been in office for almost four years already, and this speech was part of his efforts to get elected. And judging from the size of the crowd, not only in the square itself but also in the surrounding buildings, his efforts were thus far successful.

As Jupta stared down at the passionate politician as he spoke. She noticed his eyes wandering to and fro throughout the crowd (though he did focus on the cameras from time to time), and Jupta should have guessed it wouldn't be long before he saw her. As his eyes focused on her and squinted (the two were quite distant), he stopped speaking. The crowds and the cameras immediately followed his gaze to where she was standing.

Uncertain, she wasn't sure what to do. It would have been much smarter for her to have gone from the building. Left with no other option, Jupta did what made sense to her. She proudly snapped up a fancy salute, one definitely fit for an anime fan, with only two fingers outstretched to her eyebrow, and the other hand placed confidently on her hip.

President Taylor returned the salute in a properly military way, with a wry, amused, and slightly confused look on his face. He had to have known who she was, though. There was no way his secret service men wouldn't have told him. And as the crowd cheered, he couldn't help but smile a little wider. Jupta smiled too.

As Jupta saw his salute, she dropped hers, and promptly turned away. While on her exterior she was completely composed, just as anyone who had gathered at the door to the roof witnessed, on the inside she trembled. How in the world was she going to get out of there?

Fortunately, there was a smaller building on the opposite side of the roof, and Jupta made her way over. Looking down and guessing, she supposed that this building was only about thirteen or even twelve stories high. She wasn't going to feel good the next morning. But nonetheless, she managed to get a good running start. Gasping as she hit, Jupta rolled across the roof to lessen the impact.

Getting up and stretching, Jupta was a little surprised that she didn't hurt as much as she though she would. Nothing was broken. She looked over the far side of the building, trying to ignore the people from the first building who were doubtlessly still staring and gasping after the jump. But the words of the President were amplified enough for her to hear them.

Fortunately there was a fire escape, so she wouldn't have to jump any further.

--

_Dear Motoki,_

_I am so excited! It has been a wonderful week this week! The gig went well, and I expect that we will be no less than superstars! It is so wonderful that Mia's songs will be sung by someone as good as Sammi!_

_I know I usually only write you a letter once a week, but I wanted to write to you about this. I...I wrote a speech. After I saved the President from an assassination, he asked me to give a speech. You see, there were two shooters, and the police didn't believe me when I told them. That is very surprising. You would think that they would be very paranoid about the Presidents' safety. _

_But I stopped the shooters. I hope the one that I shot isn't dead. That way he will live to be ashamed of himself. There was another shooter, but he will be fine. I just knocked him out. he will be fine. Both are arrested. It was in the paper, as well as a big picture of me saluting President Taylor. I did not realize there was a flag behind me on the building. I suppose that when one is busy it is difficult to take in every detail._

_As I was leaving, the President asked me to speak. I do not think that he knew what had happened until later, but he just saw me standing there. Maybe he wanted to make it easier to catch me later. I do not know how Southerland would react to that. _

_I did not want to do the speech. There was no way that I could have spoken without giving myself away. Not only with my voice (surely I knew someone there who would recognise it), but with what I have to say. So i could not speak then, but I want to write what I would have said to you now. _

_Ha, I think that maybe President Taylor wanted me to endorse him. But I am far too young to vote._

_"Southerland,_

_I am very happy to live and to work here and to live in this country. Thank you so much for allowing me to speak today._

_There are some of you who think that what I am doing is wrong. I understand why you say this, because it is a very violent line of work I am into. I want you to know that I regret to shoot people, but I do it because I must. It pains me that I must, but in the end, I know that there are very few ways to stop crime, and if the people do not believe that they can get away with their crime, then they will not do it. And after so much research, I know that the drugs often go to very bad people, and even in different countries._

_I do this because I want to help Southerland. It is my reason to go on. Only a short time ago I lost everyone I ever cared about. They would have been so wonderful to the world...I would help them and protect them and encourage them, but now they are gone. It was just after that, when I was alone, that I learned the secret of life. The secret of life is everybody else. You must trust me, as I was in despair, I knew then that if I tried to live for myself, I would die. There is no hope or life in that. There is no future without loved ones. _

_So that is why I help you now, Southerland. It gives me a reason to live. But the more I live, the more I see that there are many people who somehow find a way to live so selfishly, and disregard their families. Parents are often scoffed at by their children, and on the TV there are so many shows where they make the parents look stupid and say that they cannot understand their children. Men will have children and then abandon them, because they aren't ready to be parents, they say. Some women will kill their unborn children, and this I understand the least. They say it is women's rights, but that cannot be true, because in many countries, like China, they will kill the baby if they find that it is a girl. Doesn't that make the country more like a man's country and take away more of women's rights?_

_And apparently there is a slave trade going, and some people, in other countries in particular, sell their children just to survive. This I know the most about because I see it the most in my work. When I first started this, I thought it was just about drugs. It is not. There are girls, and some boys, who are stolen and forced to do unspeakable acts. I have even seen some of them, and they are scarred for life._

_So I think it is better to live to help someone else, to make sure that they are safe. If we do everything for ourselves, then how will there be love? That is the reason I fight, because I know that because I am there, there is less crime later and less drugs, and the bad men who sell them will not get any money._

_Thank you."_

_Do you think the speech is any good? I am not a writer. Elsie could probably tell me many things that are wrong with it. But I will not let her see this. _

_Sincerely, _

_Kino Makoto._

_P.S. If you could write me back, please tell me if this speech is any good._


	11. Cure for a Nightmare

Sammi Chika leaned back in her chair, sipping more of her hot chocolate. She and Elsie were hanging out at their local Starbucks, talking about their gig and other band business, because they knew that J-Pop could end up being a very successful band.

"Hey Sammi," Elsie asked. "Weren't we supposed to practice today? Where is everybody?"

Sammi's smile faded a little. "Well...Ed is off visiting people, and so Jimmy didn't want to practice without him. Mako is shopping somewhere, no wait, she said she was sleeping in." She fiddled a little with her hot chocolate, stirring it with the straw. "I don't like this. We should really be getting ready for another gig. It's not good to be starting to get into the swing of things, and just suddenly drop. I mean, if that had been a big show, I would understand the need for the break, but right now..."

"I know." Elsie cheerful said as she sipped her latte. "But don't worry. This just gives us more time to get some more gigs arranged and work on our organization. For example, I think we should play _Where Did You Go?_ later in the show than we did last time. Having a slow song so early drains our energy.

"Yeah..." Sammi said thoughtlessly.

"Are you even listening?"

"No." Sammi teasingly stuck her tounge out at Elsie. "I was just thinking about the other song, _What is the World?_ that we didn't do at the gig. I wanted to work on it really bad."

"Boo. That's no reason to ignore me." Elsie stuck her own tounge out in reply. "But since I am so much nicer than you-"

"Pssht, sure." Sammi pretended to roll her eyes.

"Oh right, because I am _infinitely_ nicer than you, I'll agree to going to your house to practice once we finish our coffee. I'll record you and help you get the tone right. But then we have to work on some advertising, okay?"

"Yes, Mom."

"Sheesh, you're more polite to me than you are to your real mom."

"Well, that's because you're not as controlling as she is. I had to tell her I was spending the night at Mako's just to be able to go to the party tonight." Sammi muttered soberly. "But whatever. I still think we should get Jimmy. Think if we kidnapped him he'd play bass?"

"As funny as that would be, it would probably be dinnertime before we could get any decent work out of that kid. And I know that you and him have a party to go to tonight."

"Why don't you come? I'd really like it if someone I knew came. It's only his friends that will be there."

Elsie shook her head and smiled apologetically. "Sorry, Chika. I have a date tonight."

"Really, a date?"

"Yes, a date."

"Don't tell me, it's with J.R.R. Tolkien." Sammi poked her straw at Elsie accusingly.

"No, we don't go steady. As it so happens, I am going out with Mr. C.S. Lewis, thank you very much!"

They both laughed. "Seriously, what is it with you and going out with guys who have been dead fifty years?"

Elsie shrugged. "Hey, my idea of a good time is books. I don't party. I'm lucky I'm friends with everyone in the band. But anyway, on the topic of couples, how are you and Jimmy? He's been sort of aloof lately."

Sammi's cheerful mood dimmed somewhat. "To be honest, I sometimes wonder where this relationship is going. I know that I love him, there's definitely nothing to dispute there, but you know, that boy could do with some personal motivation. At times it feels like all that's keeping us together is the band."

"And you think he's sexy when he plays the guitar."

The young singer immediately blushed. "Don't say that in public!"

"Yeah well, you better me nice to me and get me a refill of latte to go, otherwise I just might have to stand up on this table and shout it to everyone here." Elsie smirked. "And heck, you've told me a lot of interesting stuff over the years. I may have to add more stuff to it."

"Gah! Blackmail!" Sammi went and got her more anyway, even though she knew Elsie would never go through with such a thing. But as she returned with the coffee, she noticed a more concerned look on Elsie's face.

"Sammi," Elsie said a little reluctantly as she took her latte. "seriously, it seems like you're not telling me something. Is everything really alright between you and Jimmy?"

Sammi was silent for a moment as she and Elsie left the Starbucks and headed for her Toyota. But after a minute, she managed to say, "No, things really aren't alright. I...I don't want to talk about it. At least not until I get things more clear with him. Is that okay?"

Elsie smiled and nodded. "Girl, your business is your business. I don't have to know every little detail that goes on."

"Thank you."

-----

Makoto had been having a fairly good day. She was in her apartment most of the day, besides a small excursion for a late lunch (she woke up at two o'clock), and she had decided to take the day, since it was free of class and band, to organize her spare room. It had only gotten more and more messy as the months progressed, and rarely had she ever felt any inclination to do anything about it.

Finally, though, she decided that she was going to have to at least make organized piles. That didn't pan out. After a few hours of sorting through the belongings of her friends, she became very sentimental, and just had to investigate. For a while she read some of Reina's comics, then made her way through more of Mia's poems, which she loved. Makoto didn't feel like reading Amy's medical books, but she did take a look at some of Amy's astrological drawings. Amy always tried to think that she could discover a new planet.

Serenity's diaries were always her favorite, because Serenity had always kept very good records of her life. She had been loved by her parents, but they died before she had any real memories of them. Instead little Serenity had written the love letters her father had sent to her mother. Serenity's dad was very romantic; he wrote them long into their marriage, and many of them included mentions of their daughter. It was that sort of thing that kept Serenity cheerful, just knowing that when her parents had lived, they were good people. After living a while with her grandparents, she had come to the hospice center when they discovered her terminal cancer. She had lived there a longer time than her friends.

And so Makoto had been consumed with the memories of those she loved. But it was fall. Soon it had gotten dark, and Makoto had been too busy to realize it. And with it, the darkness turned her memories bitter. As ashamed as she was of this fear during daylight, Makoto fell immediately into fear.

At first she tried to ignore it and kept reading, but she soon realized that it was a mistake to stay in that room when it was dark. It was a silly thing, she told herself, to be afraid of the dark even when the light was on. But she knew she wouldn't be going to sleep. She couldn't sleep with the light on (it had always annoyed her), and to turn them off would be to give way to the nightmares she knew she was going to have. She had been a brave child growing up, but only as an adult would she be afraid of the dark.

Makoto wasn't sure what to do. Inwardly she cursed herself for not buying some of those nighttime eye coverings. She had thought about it the day before, but it slipped her mind entirely. And so there was nothing left to do but sigh and rely on the good ol' plan: work herself into exhaustion. It would take even longer, as she had stayed up so late the day before. Jupta had the night off; Makoto was far too sore, and she knew that for the sake of her muscles, she had better take at least one night off. She already had contacted the police about several leads she had.

Hopefully it would be a "good" nightmare, that hinged on simply being without her friends. But even as thoughts of her friends emerged from her subconscious, she became angry. It wasn't fair. She fought all alone against the drug lords. Why couldn't there be a Mars, a Mercury, a Moon, and a Venus as well? Her friends would have loved to fight with her. They never would have left Makoto on her own of their own will. It wasn't their fault. They couldn't help what had happened to them.

Hot tears flowed down onto her shirt. It was all God's fault, wasn't it? But maybe, just maybe, if she was sincere enough, she could get Him to change things. Maybe all she had to do was ask. She knew it was a crazy thought as soon as it appeared, but that didn't stop her from getting into a kneeling position.

"God..." she asked, stumbling through her words. "Please God, just bring them back, back to life. It is too hard to keep dreaming....seeing them....just make them live again. I am losing my mind, please God, I will do anything to have them again....please-"

_Knock-knock-knock._

The drumming of the door got her attention with a start. Her heart jumped, and she stayed unmoved for just a moment.

_"Could it be...? Has my miracle...happened, and so fast?"_

Makoto couldn't stand to wait any longer. She leaped to her feet and ran to the door, and huge grin on her face as she expected to open the door and find her four friends there, each alive, well, and healed completely. And they would be together, just like they had said in Japan.

"Mako?" A voice called from the other side of the door. "Are you awake?"

It was a good thing that Sammi spoke before Makoto had made it to the door. The look of utter disappointment and resentment on Mako's face as she discovered that her four friends were not at the door would doubtlessly have offended Chika.

Wiping away the last traces of her tears, Makoto opened the door to Sammi Chika, only to be surprised that Sammi herself had dreary, black mascara stains on her own face.

"Come in, come in! Are you alright?" the hostess thought for a moment. "It's Jimmy, isn't it?"

Sammi nodded and entered, sitting down on the couch. Makoto went to go put water on for tea, as she had seen her mother doing when Mrs. Kino had been alive, then rejoined her friend. They were silent for an awkward moment, before talking about a few meaningless things. Once the tea was ready, Makoto brought it out, before getting to what she really wanted to know.

"What happened tonight?" she asked bluntly. "I mean, if you want to tell me."

Sammi took a nervous sip of her ginger peach tea before answering. "Well...I was at a party with Jimmy. He goes to those almost every weekend, usually both Fridays and Saturdays."

"I noticed he is always unavailable then."

"Yeah, well, it turns out he's usually over at his friend Ramon's house. You don't know him, because he's definitely not the sort of person you would hang out with regularly. He...does a lot of weed. Usually the guys just get together, smoke a little, and hang out, but Jimmy has been wanting me to go for a while. Other girls go too, usually the girlfriends of the guys there."

Makoto pondered this for a moment. "That must be why he is so lazy. Weed makes everyone lazy."

Sammi almost laughed. "So blunt about it, aren't you? But it's true."

"You went with him tonight?"

"Yeah. He wanted me to try some...but I don't like the smell. I didn't want to. We had a fight. Well, it wasn't much of one, because he wanted to go back in and smoke some more, and I didn't want to make a scene in the street. So I left. I was close to here, and I didn't want to go home just yet, so I came by here. It's not a problem for you if I spend the night, is it?

Makoto sighed and shook her head, smiling. "No, it is good. I do not like staying alone some times at night. But you should call your mom."

"I...I already did, before I came here. I'm sorry if I was being presumptuous."

It took Makoto a moment to remember what that word meant. "No, it is fine. To tell you the truth, I could not sleep."

Sammi wondered what the solemn look on Makoto's face meant, but she wasn't sure she should ask. "I don't think I've ever been inside your apartment before. It's really nice. You must have spent hours working on it." The friend's inquisitive eyes rested on a picture on the side table, and it was of Makoto with four girls, all of them in their pajamas and obviously having fun. The other girls were playing cards, and Makoto was bringing them some drinks.

"Where was this picture taken?" Sammi asked.

"In Japan. We were there with the Grant-a-Wish foundation two years ago." Makoto stopped suddenly, realising that she had given away some information she wasn't sure that she wanted to.

"Grant-a-Wish?" Sammi asked cautiously. "You mean...?"

Makoto started from the beginning. "We were all orphans. Well, Amy had a mother, but her mother was a doctor, so it was easier for her to let her girl live in the hospice center with us. My parents died when I was ten in a plane crash, and for five years I lived with the other girls in the hospice center on the other side of town. They are Amy, Mia, Serenity and Reina. We went to Japan together." Suddenly Makoto paused and stuttered before continuing. "And n-now they are all dead, since this past June."

"Oh, I'm sorry...." Sammi didn't know what to say for a moment. "Wait a minute, if you were with them for only five years, and your parents....you're only fifteen and in college?"

Makoto nodded. "No one was sure how much good it would do to educate us, so with Serenity's help, Amy decided that she was going to teach us. She was a very smart person, and we learned everything very fast, and we knew how to memorize quickly. Ha, Serenity was the teacher assistant, but she always did worse than us. Though she was very good at learning Japanese."

"But...weren't you....weren't you sick too? And if you lived, didn't anyone else?"

"No." Makoto managed. "Amy...she was the first to go. We were playing basketball, and she said she didn't want to play anymore. We didn't notice anything at first, but when we went in, she wasn't there. The next day the nurses told us that she had collapsed, and was gone. It was very horrible for us, because we had never lost anyone before, and they had been telling us that her cancer was in remission, and that she was going to get better. We made plans for ourselves, that we were all going to work together, and Mia and Reina would be famous..."

It felt a little silly to be telling that part of the story. "Anyway," Makoto continued. "Mia, she wanted to be a songwriter."

"Oh, so it's been here songs we've been singing."

"Yes. The ones I gave to the band were the ones she made for each of us. She wrote them when Amy died, which is why hers is named 'Where Did You Go?'."

Sammi gasped a little. "That one's my favorite."

"That one is hard for me. My favorite was 'Sing, Sing, Superstar', the one that Mia wrote for herself, so that all five of us had one. She was the weakest one of us, and she believed that she would be the next to go. She spent every day writing. And she got weaker and weaker. So was Reina, though we did not know until her last night. She was so very good at hiding her weakness. But that night she acted as if she wanted me to stay in her room, but I shared a room with Mia and Reina knew that Mia could not be alone at night. I wish...I wish I had told her to come to our room, but I did not think of it at the time. In the morning, she was gone, and I did not tell her goodbye. I was the first one to see her that morning, and she was dead. I did not tell Serenity and Mia, but they guessed it."

"That's...that's horrible."

"Yes. I wanted to be there when Mia died, but they took her away. She did not last after Reina died. Serenity and I were very sick at that time, and they moved us to the hospital together. We vowed to be together when we died. I remember that day, when she went unconscious. It was for a few hours at night. I was so tired, but I pushed my bed over so that I could hold her hand and she would know that I was there. I could feel her pulse, but not when she died. I remember very little, but she gasped, and she was gone. I was blacking out at that time, so I knew, I mean, I thought I was going to die too. I barely remember the emergency people coming in."

"How did you survive?"

"I do not know. I did not expect to wake up, but I did. And when I did, I got better. I told myself to die many times, but it would not work. I lived anyway. Serenity was very rich, and we did not know this, but she left all of her money to me. That is why I have this place. She bought it all for me, basically."

Sammi silently contemplated all of it for a moment. "I'm sorry....I don't know what I'd do if that happened to me. You must have been very close. Is...is that why you were crying when I came in?"

"It is more than that. Now, at night...I see them in my dreams and in my head so that I cannot sleep. I see them as if they are about to die again. Mia is always trying to sing, though she knows that she has lost her good voice. Reina is trying to will herself well, always smiling at me, but she looks pitiful. And Amy....it is strange when I dream of her, because she is cutting her arms, but in life she never did that."

"And what about Serenity?"

"She....she would tell me to follow her. Every time that I did, she would take me to see my parents. But my parents....they are lying on a table behind glass or a force field or something, and I can never reach them. If I turn around, Serenity is gone and I am lost there with no way out."

"With your parents still on the table?"

"Yes. They were very kind in life, and it was hard to be separate from them as a child. I think we were too close. It was very hard when their plane crashed."

"I think I remember that." Sammi replied quietly. "Mako....do you believe in God?"

Makoto sneered a little. "No. He never does anything for me even if he does exist."

"Oh. My parents do...I'm not sure myself." Sammi said. "But, I was sort of thinking that we should pray for her, Amy."

Her friend stared at her oddly. "What good would that do? She's dead."

Sammi grinned. "I know, I never said it was a good idea. Sometimes I get the dumbest ideas." she sighed before continuing, "like staying with Jimmy this long. At times I think I could break up with him, but...now this is going to sound silly, but I always feel like if I don't take care of him, he'll end up in some sort of trouble too big for him. And I do love him. He still tells me how beautiful I am, and he's the one that first encouraged me to go into singing, even though he never believed in his own dreams and he's not even in school now....I don't know how anyone could love a druggie slob like him, but I do! Isn't that pathetic?"

"No, it's not as bad as me, I think." Makoto tried to cheer Sammi up. "I can't even sleep at night, because I am so childish and afraid of the dark. I would be lucky to have a boyfriend at all because I am out of my mind."

"Don't say that." Sammi punched her in the shoulder lightly. "But I guess that means we're both pretty pathetic. We can't escape from our pasts. Though you at least have a good reason."

They were quiet for a full minute as they finished their tea.

"Sammi...Sammi, you should move in." Makoto surprised even herself with her suggestion.

"What, really?"

"Yes. You should come here and think about what you want to do next, and I will not think of my other friends so much, maybe. And you argue with your parents a lot."

Sammi laughed. "That's true. But I thought you said some time ago that your extra bedroom was filled with boxes."

"I can clean it out. And you won't have to pay rent either."

"What?" the friend's eyes widened considerably.

"I have already paid it for the next year. I have a lot of money."

"You know what? I think I will!" Sammi grinned. "I'm sick of being bossed around by the parents. Is there any place for the band to practice around here?"

"Uh...I think there is an abandoned storehouse near the train tracks."

They began working out the details, such as when Sammi would be able to move in, and where they were going to put all of the boxes in the other room, and when they could have a party (Sammi's idea). Makoto went back into the kitchen a minute to get more tea, and it was then that she realized that she had spoken too quickly. It was going to be hard to sneak out at night to work as Jupta with another person around, particularly when it was a college student that would also be staying up late.

Then suddenly Makoto didn't care. She could tell Sammi the truth, she thought. They were such good friends, of course Sammi would understand. Maybe she would be able to help somehow...though she thought better of letting Sammi fight.

Before she left the kitchen, however, she made sure to write two things down, in Japanese, on her whiteboard so that she would remember to do them tomorrow. One was to simply put a package in the mail, which would go to Motoki. He had yet to answer one of her letters, but Makoto felt better to know that a copy of her will would make it into another person's hands. She wanted to know that her wishes would be carried out. In fact she began to wonder why she hadn't written a will much earlier.

The second item she put on the board was simply a word: "check". Makoto wanted to check and see whether or not Jimmy was doing drugs. If he was, then she would be obligated to do something about it.


End file.
